


Fine Lines

by waterloodaydreams



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Language, F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:40:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 61,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28819392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterloodaydreams/pseuds/waterloodaydreams
Summary: You don't like Spencer Reid, and Spencer Reid doesn't like you. And yet, he's always on your mind. Perhaps there's more than just hate to that relationship of yours.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 164
Kudos: 196





	1. lists and car rides

When you were eight years old, you kept a list of your so-called enemies in your journal. The girl who pushed you every day on the playground, the boy who told you your parents didn’t really love you if they sent the nanny to collect you from school everyday, the girl who called you names and copied your homework. An overall innocent list, one that would make you smile if you discovered it now. Your current list, were you to write one now that you’re twenty five and far tougher than your childhood self, would look markedly different. 

These days, that perhaps coveted number one spot goes to your corrupt and now former boss, Special Supervisory Agent in Chief Gavin Williams. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to forgive the sheer number of cases that were ruined because he tampered with evidence for money or even just for fun. You’re still made uncomfortable by the unprofessional and downright sexist attitudes he upheld within the unit. And you’ll never forget him assaulting and leaving your closest friend, your partner for dead, after she confronted him about inconsistencies in several past cases. Of course, he got what was coming to him after that. Arrested, a prison sentence he’ll never see the end of, his reputation forever tarnished. And of course, the fuss you kicked up about the atmosphere he maintained in the office led to a few more agents being demoted, reprimanded, and replaced. Your last name, the one you share with the director of the FBI, might have helped with that. But else what is nepotism for, if not cleaning up an office full of men who are willing to look the other way and treat their female counterparts like shit? 

After the intense experience with Gavin Williams, perhaps to continue with a list of enemies seems pointless and maybe superficial; the rest of one’s enemies cannot live up to the horror of a corrupt and murderous sociopath. None the less, if the list were to continue, there’s at least one more person on it. And that person is stuck-up boy genius, Spencer Reid. 

—————————

“... Are you even listening to what I’m saying? You know it’s actually really important about the case and you’re, you’re doing what exactly?” his stupid little voice brings you out of your daydreams. You hadn’t been listening, mostly because you already knew everything he’d been lecturing on. What were Gideon and Hotch thinking, assigning you and Reid to drive over an hour away to interview a suspect together. The two of you openly did not get along with each other, and Baby Genius was not the most useful partner on a case -- unless you wanted him to talk a suspect to death. 

“Reid, I’m driving, of course I’m not listening to your shit. Besides, I also paid attention to the briefing. This guy is slightly lower down on our suspect list but high enough to deserve a visit. Can we have quiet time now, baby genius?” You sigh, and then reach over the the radio and turn the classic rock station up painfully loud. Reid makes a noise at you calling him ‘baby genius’ -- he doesn’t like this or any of the other nicknames you give him. This attempt at getting you and Reid to bond or make nice with each other clearly wasn’t going to work. 

“But don’t you think we should talk about the case? I mean you’re new to working with our team, and you’re the same age as me, so you clearly don’t have that much experience in the field either. I just think that I would feel more reassured if you actually paid attention to something outside of your silly little daydreams so that if this Hank Roberts is actually the killer then you’ll actually be of some use.” Reid rambles, almost shouting to be heard over the radio. Properly annoyed by his statement, you promptly click it off and pull the car off to the side of the long winding country road you’d been driving down. Roberts really did live in the middle of nowhere.

“Excuse me? just because I’m not some stuck-up genius, doesn’t mean that I’m bad at my job. I was top of my class at the academy and I’ve solved cases by myself, Mr. I-can-barely-use-a-gun. Get over yourself!” you retort, almost self consciously; people often accuse you of being lesser, as if your only reason for your quick rise to the BAU is purely because of your father. While being related to the FBI’s director probably didn’t hurt, you truly are good at your job, and every insinuation that you aren’t feels like a knife in the chest. 

“I actually have used a gun in the field before, Y/L/N. Why don’t you keep driving so we can actually get to the suspect's house before sundown, or are you completely incompetent?”

“Go fuck yourself, Spencer Reid.” 

You start driving again, perhaps with a little case of road rage, driving faster than you should be. Out the corner of your eye, you see Reid looking a little nervous. Good. The last half hour of the drive goes by quietly, the soft sound of whatever station Reid set the radio to as the only noise outside of the rumbling of the engine. You’re glad for it; talking or even just listening to Reid is exhausting for you. 

Once you arrive at the suspect’s house, the only house for miles, you and Reid maintain an air of professionalism, one you just can’t seem to hold onto when the two of you or the team are alone. He knocks on the door, and a man in dirty clothes opens it, looking aggravated that someone has interrupted whatever it was he had been doing. 

“Hello, Mr. Roberts. I’m Agent Y/L/N and this is Dr. Reid from the FBI, might we come in for a moment? There’s been a number of young women go missing in the area and we’re canvassing the county for anyone who might have seen anything.” you smile politely, hoping he doesn’t slam the door in your faces. 

“Oh, um, I haven’t seen anything, I don’t really go out much I guess.” He stumbles over the words, in a way that seems to you as if he is hiding something. The man keeps looking over his shoulder into the house, blocking the entrance with his body. “So uh I guess you can write me off your list,” he mutters, and promptly closes the door in your faces. 

As you start to walk away, you start to feel it in your stomach. That gut feeling that this guy was more than he seems gets larger and larger. As you get back to the car, you stop outside, while Reid gets in.

“Get in the car, Y/L/N, what are you doing?” 

“I think he killed those girls, and I think he has our current missing girl in his house right now,” you say, frozen to that spot, “and i think he’s realised we’re on to him and now he’s about to kill her too.”

You start to think about your options. The team are too far away, over an hour from your location at the closest police station. There’s no way they’d be there in time. Reid might be able to talk his way out of a paper bag, but he probably isn’t the most helpful if this ends with this guy fighting back -- and the profile suggests he would fight back. There’s no good here, just shitty options, and you find yourself wishing that Hotch and Gideon had sent you out with literally anyone else. 

“It’s not safe for us to try and take the UNSUB on ourselves, Y/L/N. I know you’re thinking about it. But there’s only two of us,” Spencer lectures once again, “And--”

“Shut up Reid, are you really willing to let the girl in there die?” 

“Y/L/N stop being overly emotional, we don’t even have proof that Marcy Evans is in there.” 

“Okay so I’ll get proof then.” you respond with an air of finality, moving back towards the house and pulling your gun out of its holster, keeping it low. You sneak towards the back of the house, peering carefully through the windows as you do so.

The first three windows give you nothing, and have you questioning whether that feeling you had in your stomach, the one that convinced you that this was the UNSUB, was just you overreacting, like Reid had implied. But then through the fourth window, you see her. Marcy Evans, huddled in a ball on the floor. You couldn’t tell if she was alive, but you could see a door to your right and Roberts with his back to it. Turning around to see where Reid was, you are surprised to see him making his way towards your location.

“If only Morgan were here to break down this door, I don’t think either of us have that kind of strength,” you murmur to Reid and he nods, slowly assessing the situation. 

“Is the door locked? Or do you think you could shoot the lock open and then get us in without Marcy getting caught in the crossfire?” Reid whispers in your ear, and you realise how close he is to you right now. You can smell his cologne, and a small part of your mind is surprised that he even wears any at all. 

“She’s not moving, I can’t tell if we’re too late already.”  
“You’re wrong. I can see her breathing.” Reid says, and in any other instance you’d have rolled your eyes at his need to be right in any situation. 

“Try the door, and if it doesn’t open, I’ll shoot it open.” you say, breathing slowly to steady yourself. This was it, perhaps the most intense moment you’d experienced with the BAU and you're stuck with Spencer Reid of all people. 

His hand shake as he tries the door knob, which by some stroke of luck has been left unlocked. The two of you move quickly into the house, Reid checking to see how severe Marcy’s injuries are and you with a gun pointing right at Roberts. He begins to raise his gun at you, ready to shoot, but you're quicker. One bullet straight into his shoulder, causing him to drop the gun. You kick it away, pulling out your cellphone to call for backup and an ambulance. Making eye contact with Reid, he subtly shakes his head; Marcy probably wouldn’t make it considering how long it would take for ambulances and the team to arrive. 

“Hotch didn’t sound too pleased on the phone. I think he’d have rather us called it in rather than take down Roberts by ourselves.” you sigh, knowing that the situation had been risky at best and that the two of you were incredibly lucky that the UNSUB had gone down quickly. 

The team eventually arrive with paramedics, who instantly take Marcy away in an ambulance, and begin treating Roberts’s bullet wound. You and Reid go outside with Hotch, away from the chaos of the crime scene. 

“We need to talk about what went down here, Agents. You might have saved Marcy Evan’s life, but you not only broke protocol but acted recklessly doing so. One of you should have called us to inform us of the situation earlier, instead of barging into the house. You are aware of how lucky you are that this went down clean? This very easily could have gone wrong. Who’s idea even was this ludicrous plan?” Hotch scolds you as if you are children, as if you weren’t aware of the risks. 

Before you could even defend your actions, Reid pipes up, sounding like the suck up he is. “It was Y/L/N’s idea, Hotch. She was determined to get in there even before we had confirmed proof Marcy was in there, and basically forced me to follow along with her plan.” 

As you glare at Reid and his version of events, he wanders off towards Gideon, where he’d be protected as the man’s favourite. You turn towards Hotch as he stares you down with that disapproving look of his, and all you could think was how badly you wanted to fight Spencer Reid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is literally my first fic ever ive literally never written fiction before idk how this works i have a vague plot and too much time so we'll see how this goes lmao


	2. elevator rides and girl's nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a girl's night with Penelope sandwiched between two awkward elevator rides.

A moment of peace in the elevator is all you want after a difficult few days at the office. It’s been a week of paperwork, on which you’ve been working extra hard: Hotch and Gideon both gave you separate talks about ‘reckless behaviour’ on cases after you returned to Quantico. Hotch’s talk almost felt like fatherly disappointment; reminding you how you could have been seriously injured while also reprimanding you on broken protocol. Hotch, while overly serious, was a good boss. Gideon’s talk, however, left you with a bad taste in your mouth. He focused on Spencer this, Spencer that, and all you wanted was to punch his precious little Spencer in the face. Perhaps your violent tendancies should worry you. He was less concerned about protocol being broken and more concerned that Baby Genius could have been injured, being less adept in the field than the rest of us and how more concern should be taken around him. 

You had sat there and taken these talks with a stony face, neglecting to mention that Spencer was not totally uninvolved in your plan to enter the UNSUB’s house, or tried to fight the fact that he’d left you to deal with the consequences while getting off scott free. Spencer Reid was the darling of the BAU and you were the new girl, now with the added label of being totally reckless. 

And so, you plan to take a moment in the elevator ride down to the parking lot to breathe and reset after a shit week at the office. Of course, the world seems to have it out for you. Just when you start to think you might have the entire elevator ride to yourself, the one and only Spencer Reid awkwardly slides in, ruining your planned three minutes of peace. 

He goes to speak and you find yourself snapping, “Don’t speak to me, Reid. Unless you’re going to apologise for the massive amount of shit you got me into with Hotch and Gideon, don’t speak.”

“Why would I apologise for informing Hotch of your reckless behaviour, Y/L/N? I only assisted you in taking down the UNSUB because if I hadn’t have stepped in, you’d have only gone and gotten yourself killed. The rest of the team should know that you’re dangerous to work with.” He stated self-righteously and your urge to slap him returned full-force. You had to get out of the elevator. 

The next stop was luckily on the same floor as Garcia’s office, giving you a reason to bolt out the doors as soon as they opened. While you didn’t know the blonde tech whiz all that well, she was perhaps the nicest member of the BAU team and always seems happy to see you. 

You get to her office and knock cautiously on the door before going in to her tech lair, taken aback by the burst of colourful and cute objects that always seem out of place to you, contrasting deeply with the serious nature of the work that takes place in there. While cute creations might take Garcia’s mind off the nasty details of the cases you work, you prefer to simply compartmentalise away the horrors of your job and avoid thinking about them when possible. 

“Hello, hello my lovely angel of joy! How are you doing, I know this week hasn’t been the best for you, but I’m so happy you stopped by to see me! I’m just about to leave, let’s go out for drinks and you can tell me all about what’s going on with you, my lovely. Maybe we can convince my Chocolate Thunder to come too, or at least to pick us up after we’ve had a few too many mojitos.” Garcia’s enthusiasm never ceased to amaze you, not that you’d complain: her joy for life gave you hope that you too could do this job and not completely lose your sparkle. 

“Hey Penelope, that sounds good. I think I need a few drinks after all the lectures and looks I’ve received from Hotch this week,” you smile wanly, glad that at least Penelope seemed to be in your corner. 

The two of you make your way out of the office -- without running into Reid again -- and to Garcia’s favourite bar a short walk away. The music is loud and the drinks are good and for a moment you could forget about Spencer fucking Reid. 

Or at least until Garcia asks, “So, Y/N, what happened between you and Boy Wonder? I know he kind of dropped you in it with Hotch this week, Emily told me, but you two have been very much with the not friendly attitudes practically since you started with the BAU. What is it with you two?” 

You sigh, really hoping to have an evening free of Reid. Really, you should’ve known it to be impossible. Reid and his annoying words or habits or behaviours seemed to be on your mind more often than not. You just couldn’t stand him or his stupid floppy hair. 

“Honestly Pen? My problem with him is just that he’s so annoying with his little I’m-smarter-than-everyone-else act. Like we get it, you’re a genius, move on with your life. If he wasn’t so obnoxious towards me I probably wouldn’t even care. I don’t know what I did to him, but since our first week of working together we just haven’t been able to get on.” You complain and take a long sip of your drink, pulling a face at how strong it is. 

“You know what, sugar cakes? When I met you I felt for sure that you and Reid would get along; you’re both into books and obscure film, you’re both incredibly smart, and you two -- just like me and Derek -- would make beautiful babies. It’s almost funny how the two of you act almost the exact opposite of what I predicted for you, and you know I have a sixth sense about these kinds of things!” 

You can’t help it; you burst out laughing. The idea of you and Reid being friends, let alone having babies, seems outrageous to you. Both of you can barely stand to be in a car together, let alone be in close enough proximity to make a baby. Just thinking about it unsettles your stomach. 

“What? You know I’m right! On paper the two of you are perfect together. I just need to figure out why you two hate each other and then I can use my relationship guru ways to fix the problem and then voila! BAU babies!” Penelope exclaims and you can’t do anything but take another long drink. If this is what ladies nights with the BAU are like, then you’re going to need to be very drunk to get through them. 

—————————

You wake up at 6 am with your head spinning. However many mojitos you drank last night, it was one too many. Looking around, you realise you must be at Penelope’s apartment, the amount of colour and glitter and abundance of cute cluing you in. You aren’t exactly sure when or how you got there, but all you want is your own warm bed. Writing Penelope a note -- on pink sparkly paper -- you call a cab and take the ride back to your own, depressingly empty apartment.

You’d moved into that building when you’d started the BAU, three months ago. The short amount of time and the multiple cross country trips you’d been on meant that you’d never had the chance to meet any of your neighbours. As you stumble through the entrance of the building and towards the elevator you saw the doors closing and someone inside for the first time. 

“Could you hold the elevator?” you croak, and an arm reaches out to hold the doors. As you slide in, you turn to the tall man next to you, ready to thank him. Instead, your jaw drops. 

“Are you stalking me?” The words fall out your mouth before you can stop them.

“Y/N, don’t be ridiculous. I live here. You moved in three months ago and you live in the apartment above mine. Don’t you pay attention to anything outside of yourself?” Reid states, looking at you as if you were stupid. 

To be fair, it was rather embarrassing that you hadn’t noticed he lived in your building. 

“Jesus Christ, can’t I ever escape you? What would it take for you to move out and get out of my life completely?” You grumble, still slightly too drunk to have any sort of filter. 

Looking up at Reid, he almost looks hurt by your perhaps slightly too harsh words. You go to apologise, but he spits out, “I could ask the same of you, Y/L/N. Stay away from me.”

He storms out the elevator, and you realise you hadn’t even notice it stop. Resolving to text Penelope about your encounter -- and to find out if you were the only person unaware that yourself and Reid shared an apartment building -- you stumble into your apartment, into your bed, and pass out for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can't stop writing, might as well update what i have. up next: the big game and revelations because reid and the reader both need to suffer


	3. cases and deja vu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> reader and reid take another trip into nowhere but this one doesn't go as well for them

The music in the Irish pub you and the team have gathered at to celebrate the Superbowl is loud, but the drinks are good and you’re having fun. Hotch seems to have gotten over your 'dangerous stunt' a few weeks ago and introduces you to his wife, Haley. You’re laughing with Emily, watching Garcia while she stares down Morgan on the dance floor. As the resident new girls on the team, you and Emily have gotten pretty close, bonding over having parents with high powered jobs and your love of shoes. Reid is somewhere, being nerdy and annoying, but he’s not around you so you can relax for once. Turns out, everyone else did know about the two of you living in the same building, and Emily and Garcia had almost died laughing at the awkward encounter between you and Reid the previous weekend. 

“Look at him move, it’s like a cat.” Garcia almost moans. 

“More like a dog!” You and Emily laugh at the same time, and you watch on as Morgan dances with his group of girls. 

Hotch and Haley get up to join in on the dancing, and Garcia heads to the bathroom, giving you and Emily a moment alone. You both sip on your drinks, enjoying the rare night off from the horrors of your job. 

“Don’t you kinda wish you had something like that?” She said, gesturing to Hotch and Haley who looked very much in love. 

“Don’t they just look so happy? It must be nice to have something to come home to at the end of a rough case. I just come home to my collection of books and vinyl, and maybe a stiff drink.” You sigh, well aware of how pathetic you sound. 

Emily laughs and begins to say, “You know who you sound like? That sounds just like something Reid --” 

“Shut up! We are so not talking about him right now, I’m still mad about him lecturing me about my coffee intake yesterday. The man pours half a cup of sugar in his coffee and he’s going to lecture me about having ten cups in an afternoon? No thank you!” You complain, hoping he didn’t hear his name and decide to come over and bother you some more. Looking around, you see he’s oblivious to your conversation, sat talking to a group of nerdy looking people. 

“God, all the two of you do is complain about each other. Just fuck and get over it -- you guys live in the same building, it’s practically fate!” Emily snorts, and you slap her on the arm, hard. 

“Ugh gross, you sound just like Penelope. Never in a million years would I ever go near him.” 

Before the two of you could continue the conversation further, JJ got the call: a case out in Georgia required the team’s urgent attention and they’d have to leave immediately. You were sorry the evening was over before it could truly begin, but grateful for an easy escape from talking about Spencer Reid. 

—————————

The case is a rough one: the UNSUBs was brutally murdering people in their homes and streaming it live on the internet. The depraved minds of these killers never ceased to repulse you. The fact that the videos were going viral on the internet was something you didn’t even want to think about. This potential team of UNSUBs were slaughtering people as if they were animals with their bullshit religious rhetoric, yet somehow managing to be both frenzied and organised at the same time. It felt as if the team were getting nowhere, until JJ found a potential witness. 

In a way that seemed all too similar to the Roberts case from a few weeks back, Hotch and Gideon choose to send you and Reid out into the middle of nowhere to interview Tobias Hankel, in hopes of getting a description of one of the UNSUBs. Clearly they were hoping that the more they put you and Reid together, the better you’d get along. You didn’t see that happening any time soon. While you were aggravated at having to spend more time with him, you thought that at least this trip couldn’t go as badly for you as the last trip to some isolated person of interest. 

Oh, how wrong you were. 

Once there, you knock and a man warily opened the door to you smiling, “Hi, Mr Hankel? We’re Agents Y/L/N and Reid with the FBI.”

“FBI?” He looks confused, and you smile kindly at him again. 

“May we come in?” Reid asks politely -- once again proving that he could be nice to anyone other than you. 

“I don’t let anyone into the house.” Hankel stutters, and you were about to ask him why that was until Reid butts in with perhaps the most flimsy excuse of needing to use the bathroom. You try not to roll your eyes at his unconvincing acting. 

“You do? Why didn’t you say something in the car?” You ask through gritted teeth, trying to play along with the lie. Hankel once again refused to let the two of you in, citing his father’s wishes. 

“Your father? You’re like, 30.” Reid states tactlessly, and you couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes this time. 

However, Tobias’s attitude hardens, “At what age can one start disrespecting the wishes of their parents?” 

Before the conversation got too uncomfortable, you decide to shift gears. “You witnessed something a few months ago, that could be of help to us. Do you remember seeing someone going over a wall into a yard? You called the police and information about this man could be useful for a case we’re working right now.” 

Hankel acts confused and denies calling the police, and the whole situation just seems off to you. You couldn’t read how Reid felt about it, but you could feel him standing uncomfortably close to you once again, so close you could smell his cologne. This time, you couldn’t stop yourself from noting that he smelt good. 

Shaking off that weird thought of how Reid of all people smells, you press Hankel about the call, asking if he was sure he didn't call or if there was another Tobias Hankel in residence at the address. You thank him and once again Reid tries to use his bathroom excuse to get into the house. but Hankel closes the door in your faces.

“That was weird, don’t you think? Like didn’t that whole experience just seem off to you? Why’d he deny calling the cops?” You ask a series of questions, not really expecting Reid to answer as the two of you walk back towards the car. 

“The response time.” Reid blurts out. “He wanted to gauge the response time of the police arrival to the house. If you were going to kill someone but you wanted to call the police first, what would you need to know? How long it takes to get there!”

With that said, he runs around the side of the house, giving you no choice but to follow him, despite the gut feeling that something really wasn’t right. He looks through the windows of Hankel’s house and you wonder if your gut feeling was the same as how Reid felt with the whole Hank Roberts situation. But this time, Hankel catches Reid watching him, and suddenly began running out of the house.

You and Reid began to chase him as he ran into the barn, stopping outside when Reid turns to you abruptly and says, “Call Hotch.”

You shake your head at him. “Can’t do that, dumbass, we’re out in the middle of nowhere without cell service. We’re on our own again for this one.”

Reid rolls his eyes and reiterates that Hankel is in the barn, and that the best plan is to separate. You’re half convinced that he just wants to get away from you, but before you can protest, Reid has already started to move to the other side of the barn in his attempt to catch Hankel. Before you can blink, Reid’s skinny ass has completely disappeared on you. Just as you’re about to start cursing him out, the barn door blows open. 

Cautiously, you begin to make your way into the barn, alarm bells ringing inside your head. The barn is dark and you can barely see anything in front of you. There’s a rustling of chains and you wonder if Reid is fucking with you. A part of you doubts he’d ever be so unprofessional but you’d rather that than something seriously being wrong. You take a step forward and tread in some kind of puddle. Knowing it’s not going to be anything good, you point your flashlight down; it’s blood, a whole trail of blood. Something very bad happened here. 

Just as you think the situation can’t get anymore dire, a growling starts, first soft and then so loud its like an engine. You turn, almost shaking, and cry out as three massive and dangerously feral looking dogs run towards you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> revelations in the next one lmao thought i'd fit them both in this but perhaps not


	4. kidnappings and guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> reid is kidnapped and y/n feels guilty

You don’t know how long you’re in that barn for. Those dogs, those feral creatures filled with rage, are dead. They can’t hurt you. You’re safe, you repeat these words to yourself on a loop, and you wonder when you’ll start to believe them. You’re hiding, waiting for Hankel, for someone, to show up. You see a group of men walk into the building and a part of you wonders if it’s Hankel or more UNSUBs. Cautiously you wait until they’re a little bit closer, until you see Morgan looking at the decimated body of the victim and the dogs on the floor. 

Shaking, you walk out of your hiding spot, gun in hand. Morgan spots you immediately, looking worse for wear. He and Emily approach you cautiously, waiting to hear what went wrong here. 

“Tobias… Tobias Hankel is the UNSUB.” you stutter, the situation feeling surreal to you. Morgan nods his head; they already knew. 

“We just thought he was a witness… and the dogs, they just, I had to kill them. They just tore her apart completely, there’s not even anything left of her, I-” You can barely think, your brain is still stuck in survival mode, in a state of shock.

“Listen to me, Y/N, where is Reid?” Emily asks, with a state of urgency. A pit forms in your stomach, not knowing where Reid is can’t be a good sign. 

“He wanted to split up, he told me he was going around back and then just, he just disappeared.” you tell them, but something tells you that this isn’t as simple as Reid being somewhere he shouldn’t. 

You end up having to be looked over by paramedics while the rest of the team search the house and the barn. You wish you were in there with them but all you can see is those dogs, those creatures rushing at you. You wonder if it makes you weak. Emily comes over to check on you as the paramedics finish up, and you overhear the end of her conversation with the local sheriff -- they can’t find Reid. 

Reid. You don’t like him, he doesn’t like you. The mutual distaste, hatred even, for each other has been long standing for the four months you’ve been on the team. And yet, something about no one knowing his location is terrifying to you, far more than it should be. Guilt, you decide, is the reason. His idea to split up was stupid, reckless even, and you should’ve just followed him to wherever he ran off to. Reid is gone and it feels like it's your fault.

\------------------

The next morning, Garcia arrives. None of the team have her tech know-how to even think about looking at Hankel’s computers without her presence. There’s still no sign of Reid. The computers, which Gideon compares to the UNSUB’s brain, are the main hope they have of finding him. Of finding Reid.

The rest of you start sorting through his journals, the endless writings documenting his every second. Garcia starts digging through computers. Every aspect of the life of Tobias Hankel is to be dissected in minute detail. You decide that you won’t stop looking until you see Spencer Reid’s obnoxious face in person again. 

While digging through the endless piles of junk, you find a listing for narcotics anonymous meetings, with a name and number. 

“There are no bad leads.” Gideon tells you when you show him, encouraging you to follow through with the lead, as small as it might be. 

You excuse yourself from the scene for a bit to go to the bathroom; you can still see the dogs in your mind and you need a moment to recalibrate and place the horrors of the night into little boxes, to be ignored now and processed later. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you can almost hear their growling ringing through your ears. It’s paralysing. You barely hear Emily calling your name until she’s right beside you.

“Hey, are you alright?” She asks, looking concerned -- she knows it’s been a rough night for you. 

“I’m just tired Em, it’s been a fucked up series of events ever since we got to Georgia.” You sigh, and she nods in agreement. 

You ask if she wants to go with you to speak to a guy who knew Hankel from a narcotics anonymous meeting and she agrees easily. JJ comes up behind the two of you, looking frazzled. It seems you aren’t the only one not coping with the events of the night. By contrast, Emily acts as if this is almost a normal day on the job, unfazed by how terribly wrong this case is going. 

JJ and Hotch call her out on it, as you watch on. You wonder why Emily is so good at compartmentalising if she’s just off a desk job. Perhaps it was never a desk job in the first place or perhaps, like you, she learnt from a very young age how to package up feelings and never truly show them. The benefits of growing up with parents in powerful positions you suppose. Either way, you wish that you could compartmentalise this case as well as Emily was. You were tired of thinking about dogs and about blood on the floor and Spencer Reid.

\--------------

Emily drives the two of you out to an address in town to meet this man who vaguely knew Hankel -- a long shot, but with few leads to work with the team would take any kind of information right now. 

“Tobias Hankel. I haven’t thought about that boy in ten years.” The man tells you, and the small hope that he might possibly know something gets even smaller.

“The two of you were in a program together?” You clarify, wanting to get every possible detail from him. 

The man affirms your statement and tells you he was once Hankel’s sponsor, despite being an alcoholic rather than a drug user. Tobias’s drug of choice left you with a bad taste in your mouth. 

“Tobias was a whole different sort of animal. He was heavy into dilaudid, used to cut it with a psychedelic.” The man explained and you shuddered, thinking about the effects that combination could have on a person. 

“Drugstore heroin but worse.” Emily murmured to you, and you nodded in response. 

“That boy was looking to escape as far from reality as he could get; there’s no excuses for addiction, but if anyone ever needed to self medicate? It would be Tobias Hankel, with that daddy of his. You know anything about him?”

“At this point in the investigation we believe he might have murdered his father.” You state, remembering your odd exchange with Hankel; a man scared of a father who showed no sign of being inside the house. 

“Good for him.” The man almost smiles and you and Emily exchange looks. Just how bad was this man’s father?

He explains more about Hankel and you begin to understand, to an extent. His mother leaving for another man had caused his father to snap and turn to obsessively to religion and ideas of sinners, beating Hankel excessively as a child. You ask if Hankel has any other ties, but the man shakes his head, telling you that he was otherwise a shut-in. Emily thanks him for his time and the two of you begin the drive back to the house. 

“You seem off today, are you sure you’re doing okay?” Emily asks with concern. 

“Don’t profile me, Em.” You snap, before sighing and running a hand through your hair. “Shit, I’m sorry. I guess I’m just feeling… guilty about Reid. Like, I shouldn’t have let him run off after Hankel by himself.” 

“Whatever happens, it is not your fault, Y/N. Reid’s a big boy and he makes his own decisions. Besides, we’re going to find him and he’s going to be fine, okay?” Emily reassures you, and you smile wanly back but the feelings of guilt and worry in your stomach don’t go away. 

\------------

Back at the Hankel residence, Emily informs the team of Hankel’s severe drug problem, which Hotch and Gideon credit as a reason for Hankel’s psychotic fracture, explaining the process to JJ. 

Suddenly, Garcia calls out to the team. She found Reid; or rather someone wanted them to see him. The team crowds around the many computer screens, watching with baited breath as you see Reid tied up and clearly injured.

“Can’t you track him?” JJ cries out, distressed at the sight before her.

“Hankel’s only streaming to his own computer, he’s rerouting to different IP addresses too quickly, I can’t track him.” Garcia 

“This is for us. He knows we’re here.” Gideon states solemnly, and the entire team falls silent for a second. Morgan, clearly aggravated, starts threatening violence. JJ looks terrified. You stand there, unable to tear your eyes from the screen. That tiny voice in the back of your head tells you that you should be stuck there, not Reid. After all, are you not the reckless one? 

You refocus yourself. Hankel asks Reid to pick someone to die, in exchange for a life saved. A abhorrent decision to be forced upon someone. The team watches on in silence. What more can you do other than watch? He picks a name, and Gideon works quickly to get the chosen woman to shut down her camera. As he does, the screen goes blank. 

Morgan breaks a door. You stay silent. Everyone holds their breath and waits, for what else can you do but wait?

\-------------

As expected, there’s another murder. Another couple dead. Another couple you couldn’t save. You stay behind at the house, with Morgan and JJ. You’re too tense for a crime scene, too wrapped up in the fact that you and Reid should’ve stayed together. 

You stand there, completely zoned out, not noticing Morgan walk up to you. 

“Hey Y/N, shouldn’t you be getting some rest? It’s been a long one for you.” He asks, and you clutch at your coffee mug even tighter. 

“I can’t rest not with Reid… Not with everything happening,” you start, and then change gears. “Morgan, do you think it’s my fault that Reid is gone? If he hadn’t run off, if we had just stayed together, none of this would be happening.”

“The fact of the matter is that one of you is here and the other one isn’t. Stop beating yourself up about it and get some rest, Y/N.” Morgan states, walking away from you. A part of you thinks that he secretly blames you for Reid’s kidnapping -- the two of them are close -- but the more rational side of your brain reminds you that you have no control over the actions of Reid, of Hankel, of anyone. 

You sigh, and sip your coffee. Maybe rest is a good idea. 

\------------

Later, Reid appears on the screen again and again. Each time, the team witnesses horrors unfold. You watch Reid receive awful beatings. You watch Reid be tortured. You watch Reid have a seizure and almost die. In that moment you realise that after this, you can’t hate Reid anymore, that you don’t hate him. You don’t like the man and his obnoxious tendencies, but seeing him brutally attacked by the UNSUB with very little leads as to their location, you can’t hate him. If you were a crier, you’d probably have shed at least a few tears by this point. However, you take a breath and steel yourself. Reid is alive. Reid is going to be okay. You are going to be okay. 

Suddenly, a breakthrough. The time between the killings and the video being posted gives you a radius for Hankel’s location. It’s a large zone but it’s something. 

“How many members on your team?” Hankel’s voice, or rather, Raphael’s voice comes through the tinny speakers.

“Seven.” You all look around, confused. Including Reid, there’s eight of you. Perhaps he’s playing into the delusional nature of Hankel, using the number seven for a reason, or maybe he really does detest your presence on the team that much. You try not to think about it. 

Hankel starts ranting about archangels and Hotch figures it out; he's reenacting the book of Revelations. His next statement makes you all freeze.

“Choose one to die. Your team members -- choose one to die.” You all wait with bated breath; what kind of logical response can Reid give to that? A part of you suspects he’ll give your name, it’s no secret the two of you hate -- hated -- each other. 

And yet, after some back and forth, Reid chooses Hotch, calling him a narcissist. An odd choice of criticism; the team lists through Hotch’s worst qualities and narcissism is not one of them. Hotch suddenly recalls an argument over the definition of narcissism with Reid -- an argument in which he quoted Genesis, in which he mentioned a graveyard. 

Of course Reid would be obnoxious enough to give you a clue via a biblical quote he’d cited days ago.

His obscure reference is enough to lead the team to a location, Marshall Parish, and you all rush to the SUV’s. You didn’t know how much time Reid had left, and you didn’t want to think too closely about it. Reid would be fine. He would be fine and he wouldn’t die because you split up in the field. 

You find Reid after he somehow managed to take down Hankel in the cemetery. He was alive. Maybe not okay, but alive. 

“You all right?” Hotch asks him softly, as Reid pulls him into into a hug. 

“I knew you’d understand,” He says, as if he were on the verge of tears. You all look on with relief and empathy.

You find you don’t quite know what to do with yourself. A part of you desperately wants to hug Reid, to prove to yourself that he really is there, alive. Another part of you detests that idea, thinking it would be weird and uncomfortable for you both. You stare at him, and he looks back at you. 

“Reid… I… I’m glad you’re okay.” You manage to get out, unsure of what else to say. He nods, and you breathe out a sigh of relief. 

Morgan reaches out and squeezes your shoulder, and you smile shakily at him. It’s over. It’s over. It’s over. 

\-----------

You find Reid sitting in an ambulance, waiting for the paramedics to take him to the hospital. Compelled to say more to him, you find yourself suddenly right in front of him, but without the words to truly convey how you feel. Honestly, you don’t really know how you feel. 

“What, Y/N?” Reid breathes out, looking tired by your presence. 

“Reid, I’m so sorry. I just, I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean for this… for this to happen.” You blurt out, the guilt that has been settled in your stomach the entire case finally rearing its head.

“Y/N… It was my idea to split up in the first place. This wasn’t your fault. Okay?” He sighs and you nod. Relief that he doesn’t blame you floods through your veins. 

Walking away towards the SUV, you wrap your arms around yourself. The tiredness from your lack of sleep finally hits you. You’re exhausted from the shit show that occurred; you never want to set foot in rural Georgia again. And somehow, your feelings about Spencer Reid feel far more complicated than you were used to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not gonna make recapping episodes a regular thing but i think these two eps are important in terms of getting y/n to stop hating reid and just disliking him instead -- shes gotta see him as a real person before they can start to get along.


	5. office dramas and fights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just because y/n doesn't hate reid anymore, doesn't mean they're getting along

Reid is not okay. Everyone can see it, everyone knows about it, everyone just... pretends. A tiny, spiteful part of you almost feels victorious that the BAU’s golden boy wasn’t so golden, that his shine had been tarnished, except this was far more serious than Reid making a mistake on a case. He was in the process of developing a serious drug problem and no one was making any move to stop it from happening. 

The Hankel case had fucked all of them up, Reid more than most. the entire team was feeling the effects of Reid’s kidnapping, of almost losing an irreplaceable member of their team. You're pretty sure you never want to see another dog ever again. The weeks following the case had left you all oddly quiet, trying to piece yourselves back together. but the puzzle couldn’t be finished, pieces were missing, because Spencer Reid was not at all himself. 

He’d become more aggressive towards the team, mainly yourself, you notice. Small comments that were once insightful turn snide and then straight up mean. The team reacts differently to Reid’s newfound nastiness. JJ treads more carefully around him, Garcia is overtly nicer towards him, the rest of them let him get away with it, not wanting to upset him further. You get angry. You don’t understand why Reid doesn’t just fight his personal demons instead of taking it out on you. What was once unfriendly bickering between the two of you turns into all out war and it gets so bad that Hotch has to haul you, individually, into his office. 

Apparently calling Reid a 'fuckwit with the emotional intelligence of a bendy straw' in front of local law enforcement on a case is frowned upon by the FBI. 

At least, the one benefit of this new development in you and Reid’s relationship is that Gideon and Hotch seem to have given up the idea of sending the two of you off to bond in the field. 

\------------

It’s starting to get ridiculous, the pseudo-war you have going on in the office. Reid calls an idea of yours stupid in front of everyone, you ‘accidentally’ spill coffee on his just completed paperwork. He deliberately shoves past you, you replace the sugar with salt and watch him put it in his coffee. He calls you a bitch, you steal his coffee mug, knowing he gets too freaked out by germs to just use someone else’s. 

It’s occurred to you that a lot of your revenge is coffee based. 

You take Reid's case files and hide them to waste his time, he steals all your pens so that you can’t fill out your own paperwork. You deliberately close the elevator doors so he has to wait for the next one, he starts blasting music at 3 am to wake you up. You start a rumour that he shat himself while at a crime scene, he tells everyone that he’d overheard your ex-boyfriend breaking up with you because you’d cheated. 

You were both effectively ruining each others personal and professional lives, and it didn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon. The name calling and bullying was escalating to highly personal insults and low blows. Honestly you were starting to become ashamed of your actions but you couldn’t stop, and it seems Reid wouldn’t either. 

Even though your feelings of hatred toward Reid had tapered off after his kidnapping, his asshole behaviour was not something you were about to let slide. Besides, not hating him doesn’t mean you have to like him.

\-------------

“Did you take my case files?” Reid is towering over you while you’re working at your desk, unfortunately located right next to his. “I can’t find my case files and you’re the only kleptomaniac here.”

“No. Fuck off.” You wonder if he’s just calling you a kleptomaniac as an insult, or if he’s profiled you well enough to figure out that you really did have a stealing problem when you were fifteen. It was mostly a ploy to get your parents attention, and when it didn’t work you had turned to other methods of acting out. 

He grabs your shoulder and turns you to face him. You roll your eyes. Reid seemed to be getting physical with you more and more these days. If he wasn’t careful you’d end up punching him in the face. 

“Seriously Y/N, stop being a little bitch and give my files!” He says loud enough for Hotch to stick his head out his office, distracted by our chaos.

“You two. My office. Now.” Hotch orders, and the two of you wince. 

“Uh oh, looks like someone’s getting it trouble with Dad!” Morgan laughs, as the two of you trail off to Hotch’s office. 

“Take a seat, both of you.” Hotch says sternly, and you both drop into the chairs before his desk. “This has to stop. I don’t care what petty rivalry the two of you have going on, but keep it out of the field and out of the office. You’re starting to cause issues and that is the last thing the BAU needs right now. I will not hesitate to transfer one or both of you if you don’t stop this childish nonsense. Am I clear?”

We both mutter affirmations and flee from his office. Of course, you knew his threat of transfer essentially applied just to you rather than Reid. He’d been here longer than you had, was literally a genius, and Gideon’s golden boy, handpicked for the team. While you might have your last name and father's position at the Bureau on your side, it would not be enough to keep you in the BAU if push came to shove. 

“I’ll stop if you stop.” You sigh at Reid, not looking him in the eyes. 

He snorts. “ Whatever, Y/N. Just tell me where my files are.”

“...Taped under your chair.” You watch him almost run, his silly little run with his too skinny frame flailing about, and pull the files from underneath his seat.

“How did you even…” He mutters and you smirk, knowing you'd outsmarted him this time. 

“You were in the bathroom and I told Morgan I’d set him up with a friend of mine if he didn’t spill the beans.” Grinning you turn to Morgan, “By the way, getting caught by Dad means our deal’s off.” 

“Aw shit, and I really wanted a date this weekend without having to do any of the work.” Morgan laughs and you join in. Reid just stands there with a weird look on his face, as if he can’t figure out whether to be annoyed or not. 

“Anyways, gotta get back to work, Baby Genius! You got a lot of files to catch up with there!” You give him a fake smile and return to your own desk.

Of course Reid had a lot of files -- you’d slipped at least three of yours and Morgan’s into his pile while he was away.


	6. late nights and low level crimes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> reid and y/n have two late night encounters

You roll over in bed, unsatisfied and distracted. The guy you’d brought home from the bar -- you don’t recall his name -- had been loud and obnoxious and not even good in the sack. It’s been a hard few weeks at work, difficult cases one after the other. You were hoping to have some fun tonight, to relieve some stress. Clearly, Dan or Dave or Dylan was not exactly up for the task. 

“You can go now, dude.” You say when it becomes clear he’s not getting the hint that the night’s over. He mumbles something about maybe he could stay over because his place is the other side of town and you roll your eyes. 

“Unless you want me to pull my gun on you, maybe you should consider putting on your pants and getting out of here, okay?” You say with a fake smile, hoping he gets the message this time. Luckily he puts his clothes back on pretty fast, mutters some derogatory insult, and storms out the apartment. The door slams behind him and you lay back down, hoping that Reid isn’t planning on playing you an opera at 3 am again. 

Unfortunately, sleep just doesn’t seem to be on the cards for you: twenty minutes later an orchestral rendition of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake starts blaring out from the apartment below you. 

At least Reid has good taste in ballets.

Normally, you wouldn’t let this get to you. Normally you’d say fuck it and put some earplugs in, or just accept that sleep would not be on the menu that night. 

But today? It was all too much for you. You still hadn’t completely processed the trauma of your last case, where the last victim died in your arms. She was your age, too young to die like that. You needed some time to sleep and to cry and here Reid was, playing a stupid ballet at midnight.

Tonight you just needed to sleep and tonight you wanted Spencer Reid to fuck right off. 

Pulling on some sweatpants and a hoodie you’d stolen from Morgan, you make your way down to Spencer’s apartment. It's months later and you still think it’s a cruel twist of fate that you’re both stuck in the same building. 

You bang on his door loudly and Reid comes to the door with a smirk on his face. You’re so angry you almost don’t notice that he’s in Star Wars pyjamas that are slightly too small for his long frame, and that his stupid floppy hair could almost be considered cute.

“Y/L/N, why are you banging on my door at midnight? Can’t whatever drama you’ve got going on this time wait until the morning?” He smirks at you and you resist the urge to punch him, once again. Hotch would be mad if Baby Genius came into work with a black eye.

“Reid, normally I wouldn’t give a shit about you blasting Tchaikosvky but can you give it a rest tonight, please?” You ask, hoping that the tears of frustration behind your eyes don’t end up falling. That would be embarrassing and you already know Reid would never let that one go.

“If I have to listen to you fuck some guy, then you can deal with the music, maybe listening to Tchaikosvky will give you some class. Although you know what? You don’t look well-fucked to me… the asshole couldn’t get a frigid bitch like you off, huh?" He asks mockingly.

“Last I heard, guys who can’t function without their silly little drugs aren’t exactly the experts in getting fucked.” You snap, sick of his attitude.

“You know what, Y/N, I think you want me to fuck you. I could take you right now up against this wall and have you screaming my name, you know that right? They say a hate fuck is always a good time.” He leers forward, almost whispering. 

“I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last man on earth Reid, you’re a pig. How high are you right now anyways, you look a mess.” You roll your eyes at his suggestion, wondering if he really meant it. Probably not.

“None of your business, Y/L/N. Get lost.” He moves to slam the door, but only succeeds on slamming it into your foot, making you wince. 

“I’m not leaving until you turn the music off, Spencer. Please, I just- I can’t deal with this tonight.” Your voice cracks embarrassingly, and you’re suddenly aware that you might just start crying if you don’t get out of there soon. You could never let yourself cry in front of Reid, of all people. 

For the first time, you see a glint of sympathy in his eyes, before he locks down and goes back to looking annoyed at your existence. You wonder if maybe there is a decent human being under all that hair.

“I can turn it off. I keep getting noise complaints and I rather like living here despite your presence, so perhaps I might cool off on the late night music. You can go away now.” The door shuts in your face, softly for once, and you hear the music click off. 

Relieved, you trudge upstairs to your own apartment. Getting into bed was easy, but getting to sleep was not. All you could think about was hate fucking and Spencer Reid.

\--------------------

You know it’s wrong. wrong in every sense of the word. There’s no way that doing what you’re thinking will end well for anyone here. But Hotch and Gideon don’t call you the reckless one for nothing, so you might as well live up to the label at least one last time. 

Spencer left his satchel bag at the office. The bag he never lets go of. You often wonder if he would be stupid enough to stash his drugs in there, in a bag he brings in and out of the FBI building every single day. He would be.

You’re working late with Morgan, when he notices it. 

“Ah look, Pretty Boy left his bag here. Guess someone will have to drop that to him on their way out.” Morgan states, leaning back in his chair. 

“Ugh I guess I can, same building and all. Bet he’ll be mad it’s me returning it too, even though it makes the most sense. I’ll have gotten all my gross germs on it.” The two of you laugh, but your mind is scrolling through options.

Do you risk searching his bag for drugs? What if you find them? What if you don’t find them? What do you even do if you did find them? 

Lots of questions and only a few half-baked answers.

So you take the satchel and leave shortly after that, heading to your car. Half way along your drive home, you pull into a parking lot and stare at the satchel. It sits in the passenger seat, taunting you, begging you to look inside. 

A part of you felt fifteen again, like it was your first time stealing trinkets from overpriced boutiques in the hopes that your mother would finally pay attention, that your father eventually would notice you. 

Taking a deep breath, you begin to carefully look through the contents of Spencer Reid’s personal belongings. Was this a crime? If it wasn’t, it felt like a profound invasion of privacy. You dig through endless pieces of paper, case files, a few books on subjects that looked endlessly boring, the usual trash found at the bottom of one’s bag. Just when you’re about to give it up, you notice a second compartment. Holding your breath, you carefully open it up. Inside is a vial of what must be dilaudid. 

You always knew finding it was a possibility, it’s the reason you’re sitting in your car looking through your colleague’s personal property. But what do you do when you find enough of a drug that could probablly put said colleague behind bars for a substantial amount of time? In your eyes the only option is to destroy the evidence. 

Now this is definitely a crime, and worse a crime you are committing for someone you don’t even like. 

You put the vial in your pocket and walk into a coffee shop, trying to pretend everything is normal. It is not normal. Entering the bathroom, you’re relieved to have the space to yourself. In the cubicle, you take the vial and pour out the toxic drug, feeling relived as it disappears down the toilet bowl. You flush, take the vial and place it in the sanitary bin and wash your hands. 

One oat milk latte later, you’re on your way up to Reid’s apartment. You knock and he opens the door, looking dishevelled. 

“What now Y/L/N? This is the second time in two weeks you’ve shown up unwanted and unprovoked at my apartment. Go away.” He makes to close the door, but you see it coming and stick your foot in the way once again.

“Uh uh, Baby Genius, I have a gift for you.” You say in a sing song voice, holding up his satchel. 

“My.... Did I leave it at the office? Uh… Thank you. Okay, goodbye now, don’t come back.” Reid stumbles over his words and slams the door in your face. 

Not wholly unexpected, but at least he said thank you, you think. 

—————————————

Later there’s a loud banging on your door and someone shouting your name. You’re 90 percent sure it’s Reid about his missing dilaudid, but you pick up your gun just in case. Looking through the peephole, you see it’s Reid. You’re not sure whether you should be reassured; he looks angrier than you’ve ever seen him, and that's including the time you spat in his first coffee of the day. You decide to keep the gun on you.

“Agent Reid, what can I do for you?” You ask innocently, as if you don’t know the exact reason he’s at your door. He doesn’t respond and instead pushes past you into the apartment. 

A tiny part of you feels embarrassed to have him in your apartment: you’ve always taken a maximalist approach to interior design but the number of books and DVD’s strewn everywhere just looks messy. That same part of you also notes that you’re only wearing an oversized vintage t-shirt with a dumb slogan, not exactly a good look for anybody. Although you weren't exactly sure why you'd want to look good for Reid. 

“What did you do with it. What did you do?” Reid says, and suddenly he has you backed against the door. He towers over you and at this angle he almost seems dangerous. 

“Do with what Reid? I don’t know what --” he cuts you off. 

“Don’t lie to me Y/N,” He slams his fist on the door next to your head. It’s at this moment you see the flaw in stealing drugs from someone with a drug problem - they get real mad about it. “Where is the dilaudid, what did you do with it, what did you do?” 

“Reid, I got rid of it. You need to stop.” You say breathlessly. He’s so close to you right now.

He takes a step back and looks at you, face like an injured animal. “Why would you do that to me? What gives you, you of all people, the right to do that?” He asks contemptuously. You realise you have to give him a reason for your actions. 

“Did you know my mother died last year? They said it was a heart attack, but anyone who really knew her knew that it was the years of drug abuse that did her in. She was high functioning, hid it way better than you do, Reid. Every so often I’d throw away her stash as a teenager. She’d get mad but it would keep her sober, for a little while at least. I figured I’d do you the same favour. Take this as an opportunity. You don't have to talk to me about it. You don’t even have to stay clean, but you could try it?” You look up at him, hoping something you said resonated with him.

You’re shocked that you told him about your mother; you don’t tell anyone that story. You could’ve given any number of reasons why you threw away his stash without telling him one of your deepest secrets. You wait with bated breath to see what his response is. He stares, saying nothing, just standing there. You start to fidget, uncomfortable under his gaze. 

“Fuck you, Y/N Y/L/N.” He moves you out the way and opens the door, stepping out of your apartment. “I am sorry about your mother though. No one should… no one should have to deal with that, even you.” 

He leaves, and you close the door, sliding down to the floor. You can’t tell if you’ve made a mistake, or if things have changed between the two of you, but you’re relieved that encounter is over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> up next.... gideon is leaving and reid is a wreck and y/n is .... doing whatever y/n does


	7. burn out and change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> y/n takes a holiday and comes back to chaos; strauss shows up and gideon doesn't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the timeline between the episodes referenced here is (very) condensed. go with it

You need a break. You’d been at the BAU for nine months now and while you found the work rewarding and interesting, the horror of it was overwhelming at times. Compartmentalising had never been a huge issue for you, separating the professional from the personal was basically second nature. Learning to navigate politics a lesson you’d been taught at a young age and as with most things, you excelled at it. And yet, here you were: struggling. You knew you weren’t the only one who found the BAU a tough job at times but the pressure of being the new girl, the youngest member of the team, meant you felt the need to tough it up and tough it out.

Your current case wasn’t helping matters; any case where the UNSUB got personal, attacked people the team knew and people you’d saved, was one none of you would be forgetting any time soon. For you, this was the first case in which the team was being directly targeted by a killer. You can’t even imagine how Gideon feels, his girlfriend being massacred by Frank in an attempt to hurt him. The idea of this job bleeding over the lines of personal and professional, two lives you desperately wanted to keep separate, is terrifying to you. Watching the UNSUB and Jane so easily take their own lives, after the utter destruction they’d caused, left a hole no one would be able to fix.

Trying to get a little privacy for once, you sit in the round table room with headphones in, trying not to cry at how fucked up the world is. Thankfully, Morgan and Reid and the others are all down in the bullpen, away from you. You don’t need any snide comments from Reid about how badly this case got to you. 

Reid. Things had been weird with him since you’d stolen his bag and his stash two months ago. He’s stopped being outright rude to you and a ceasefire had been called on the office war. You no longer mess with his coffee, and he stops mocking everything that comes out of your mouth. Of course, you aren’t friendly by any stretch of the imagination. He’s practically ignoring you: outside of the few occasions he’s forced to speak to you or the times he wants correct you, he stays silent. It’s annoying; you just want to figure out where the two of you stand. 

He seems better. You think he’s sober, or starting to get clean at least, and you’re happy for him. You’d never say anything to him about it, but the fact that he seems to be recovering from the Hankel incident removes the last vestiges of guilt the kidnapping holds over you. 

“Y/N, this was a rough case, for all of us. How are you doing?” Hotch appears in the seat opposite you and you wonder when he got there.

“We’ve had better cases. I think this is going to be a hard one to compartmentalise, you know?” You respond to Hotch honestly, knowing that he’d be able to tell a lie instantly.

“We’ve had a lot of hard cases in close succession, it’s okay to have feelings about them. Have you considered using some of your vacation days? I know you have at least a week’s worth piled up,” Hotch starts, looking you in the eye. “People who do the work we do, people on this team especially, struggle to switch off from from what we do, but I really think you should consider taking the time off. You’re a smart agent and a good profiler, it wouldn't do for you to burn out so quickly.”

You blink, pleased to know Hotch thinks so positively of your work on the team, and surprised that he cared enough to check your vacation days.

“I think… I think i’ll take that week off, Hotch.” You look up at him, and he gives you a slight nod before walking out. 

\-------------

You end up getting a good ten days off, and your vacation was everything you needed it to be; your favourite arthouse cinema was showing a couple of your favourite French films, you finally could to check out the new exhibits at the local museums, you got to catch up with friends you’d barely spoken to in months over good coffee. And you didn’t have to see Spencer Reid. You were confused as to why that was such a prominent win in your mind, or why he was even on your mind in the first place. Perhaps it was because you felt like you could never escape him; he was always at work, and you’d see him around your building and in the surrounding area. He was like an itch you couldn’t quite scratch. The team must have been called away on a case, and for that you were kind of grateful. You desperately needed space, from everyone. 

After your wonderful, if too short, vacation you waltz back unsuspecting into chaos. Turns out, a lot can happen over ten days. You’re vaguely aware that some office politics had been going down while you were gone, but you’re surprised to see how deeply that issue ran. Hotch is transferring out, Emily is quitting the team, Gideon is missing in action. You feel bad that you’d clearly missed a lot of important stuff, but relieved that you weren’t directly involved in the office politics this time. You’d had enough of that in your last unit. 

Unfortunately, Hotch’s suspension means that Strauss would be stepping into his shoes, for a little while at least. Strauss annoys you. As a child of bureaucrats, you’ve learned to hate them. The idea of her coming out into the field was laughable -- she’d be useless. But you are concerned at how small the team seems to be without those missing; only you, Morgan, Spencer, and JJ out in the field. 

The four of you sit together on the plane, unified in your shock at the multiple changes occurring to the team simultaneously and an intense dislike of Strauss. Even you and Reid are seemingly at an informal truce, playing nice with each other. You begin to go through the case, pretending that things are normal and that things aren’t on the edge of coming undone. 

Strauss manages to get on both the nerves of the team and the local law enforcement almost instantly. Her lack of tact in the field has everyone wincing at her actions. Hard. However, while being short and abrasive with everyone else, she’s being overly friendly to you. You figure it’s because of your father, because she thinks that perhaps being nicer to you will end up with some kind of promotion for her or that you might put in a good word for her. Clearly, she’s unaware that you’ve already burnt all your connections, that your relationship with your father extends only to phone calls on special occasions, that you’re just an ordinary agent.

Reid notices it. Everyone can see that Strauss is treating you like the golden child of the FBI, in a way that seems at odds to her treatment of the rest of the team. It’s probably because he’s used to receiving such treatment himself, from Gideon. But Reid notices you. 

“You hate it, don’t you? How Strauss is treating you like you’re better than the rest of us? You’re being quieter than usual and avoiding her harder than anyone.” You didn’t even notice he was behind you. 

“Don’t profile me,” you snap. After a beat, you sigh, “It’s not like I have any control over her career trajectory, I’m just another BAU agent.”

“You’re pretty young for the BAU though, to get the job without the help of nepotism must mean your resume was highly impressive.” He states matter of factly, and you bristle. 

“Fuck you, Reid. I worked hard, just like everyone else on this team. I might be young and I not have an IQ of 187, but I’m smart and I’m good at my job.” You storm off, annoyed at Strauss and at Reid and at a case that doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. 

You finally get lucky; Hotch and Prentiss show up and suddenly the team gets a promising lead that leads directly to a suspect and to an arrest. The power struggle between Strauss and Hotch reaches an impasse, and it seems things might just return to the way they had been. If they do, you’ll be relieved. You’ve never been one for drastic change. 

But Gideon was still missing. 

The jet ride back to Quantico was interesting; the relief that Hotch and Emily were coming back tapered with the fact that Erin Strauss was still among the group. No one would truly relax until she went back to her office, far away from the team and the field. 

\-------

You find yourself outside your apartment building a few evenings later, lit cigarette in your hand. It was your worst habit: you allowing yourself a single cigarette after a truly awful day, promising every time that it would be the last one. The day’s disaster had been phone call from your father; it had been awkward and stilted and the conversation had run dry almost instantly.

You close your eyes, inhaling the smoke and feeling a wave of calm wash over you. Of course, that quiet sense of peace didn’t last long. 

“He’s gone.” Reid’s voice appears from beside you. Ugh. You hadn’t heard him arrive, and you wonder what kind of FBI agent that made you. 

“Go away Reid,” You breathe out, opening one eye to look at him, “Who’s gone?”

He looks sad, you note, like a kicked puppy. Something about it makes you uncomfortable. “Gideon. He’s gone. He left me a note. He says he’s not coming back.”

You breathe in sharply. Gideon leaving, after the brutal murder of Sarah, isn’t wholly unexpected. His choice to leave without giving the any of the team closure seems somewhat cowardly to you, but you’ve never been the man’s biggest fan. Not like Reid is. 

“I’m sorry, Reid.” You whisper, knowing words -- especially your words -- wouldn’t be of much help to him. Gideon seemed to be some sort of father figure to the man, and you wonder how he’ll cope in his absence. 

For a moment, he says nothing. Then with a change of tone, “You know, smoking is really bad for you. 159,292 Americans died from lung cancer last year, and the risk of contracting lung cancer is significantly higher for smokers. You’re claiming to be smart all the time, but standing out here smoking doesn’t really seem that all that smart to me.” 

You snort at his words, and Reid promptly turns and walks inside the building the two of you share. It seems like things, at least between you and Reid, are definitely back to normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not sure how i feel about this chapter. anyways. rossi will probably show up soon


	8. drinks and holidays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> david rossi shows up but more importantly, it's halloween

David Rossi is seriously cool. You’d met him once before, introduced to him through your father, and he had to have been one of the most interesting FBI agents you’d met. To be working with him is an incredible opportunity, one you never thought you’d get. The man was a god in the worlds of profiling and crime writing. You had to make a good impression. 

Reid, Morgan, and Prentiss are discussing the merits of Halloween when you see Rossi walk into the bullpen for the first time. You all watch in awe as he walks up to Hotch’s office, all slightly intimidated by the many iconic stories of his days as a profiler. 

Hotch introduces you all to Rossi; everything goes smoothly until Reid practically stumbles over himself in his hero worship of the man. You roll your eyes and shake Rossi’s hand, pleased when remembers having met you before, but less pleased when he mentions your father. Before too much time could be focused to that unpleasant topic, JJ calls everyone up to the round table room, and the briefing for the case begins. 

There was a sense of disappointment that the team had gotten a case this week. You know everyone was hoping for Halloween off: Reid is some weird fanatic when it came to the holiday, Garcia is always trying to make plans for the team to go out, and Morgan just wants to use the holiday to get girls. However disappointed you all might be, the case is more important. You fly out, hoping that maybe you’ll be back in time for the weekend, and that working alongside David Rossi will be every bit as cool as you’d hoped.

Working with Rossi is, to put it simply, interesting. It is very clear to you that he’s not used to doing things the way the team does, and it puts the rest of you at odds with him, often. He could be abrasive and clearly wants more independence than being a member of a team would usually provide. 

They say never meet your heroes. 

However, towards the end of the case you got the idea that Rossi is willing to learn to adapt with the team, making things a lot smoother. Adding to that small win, the case, while not the easiest of cases, is quickly solved when several leads appear after the killer makes a mistake. 

It looks like the team will be back home in time for Halloween after all.

\----------------

Halloween is perhaps your favourite of all holidays. There’s no expectations to see family or to have someone to spend it with, just candy and costumes and cocktails. For once the team gets lucky enough to have a holiday at home. Once you’re back at the office, Garcia tells you she’s been organising a spooky night out in the hopes that you’d be home the entire month of October, and you happily agree to join in the fun.

“I am so glad you’re coming out with us sugar drop! It’s never the same when you’re not there, and I miss you so when you’re out being a crime fighting superhero. Anyways everyone is coming -- well not Hotch or the famous David Rossi -- but you have no excuse to back out on us. And wear a costume!” Garcia squeals, going a mile a minute with her plans for the night. 

“Shit, I forgot about picking up a costume, do you think there will be any good ones left?” You ask, wishing you’d been more prepared. You were fully expecting to still be on a case for the holiday, so now you were stuck with no costume and days to find something. 

“Sugar, as if you should ever doubt me; my mystical technological ways knew you hadn’t picked up a costume, so I found you one and brought it, my treat! You’re going to make the sexiest vampire in the USA, no, the entire world!” She smiles at you so widely and with so much enthusiasm, you can’t help but grin back at her. 

“How did you even know my exact size, Pen?” You wonder, and she gives you a look. 

“Girlie, you don’t even want to know how much I know about everyone on this team. I know all, let’s just leave it at that.”

\--------------  
The costume Penelope had gotten you fits perfectly, as promised. And you have to admit, you look hot. The cut of the dress and its matching cape was flattering, covering everything they needed to while also showing off your best assets. The glue-on fangs had been a pain to get on, but you were determined to commit to the look. 

A knock at the door startles you. “Sugarplum, are you almost done? We gotta head out real soon if we want to get a table at the bar!” Penelope cries through the door, and you take one final look at yourself before heading out. 

Penelope squeals at the sight of you. “You look incredible, gorgeous, sexy, smoking hot! Every man in that bar will be eating out the palm of your hand by the end of the night, I just know it.” 

You laugh, “You look pretty great yourself, Pen. I didn’t think your wardrobe could get anymore colourful!” 

Penelope gives you a twirl, showing off the full effect of her rainbow unicorn costume. “C’mon, let’s get out of here!” 

The two of you are the first to arrive at the bar, grabbing a round of drinks and a table before you see other members of the team slowly start to arrive. Morgan shows up first, dressed as James Bond and seemingly on a mission to pull as many women as he possibly can. Emily’s next in a black latex dress that looks as if it costs more than half your wardrobe, claiming to be a Catwoman. JJ’s not long behind her, dressed as Super Girl.

As the rest of you wait for Reid to arrive, you offer to go to the bar to pick up drinks for the table. The bar is busy, but you manage to get someone’s attention pretty quickly. As you go to grab your tray of drinks, a drunken man snatches ahold of your wrist. 

“Hey dollface, what’s a man gotta do to get a pretty little thing like you to go home with him?” He slurs, leering towards you. Drunken men are the worst type of men. 

Before you can even get two words out, a harsh but familiar voice cuts in. “Get off her before I make you get off her.” 

You look up and see Reid staring at you, looking annoyed. He always looks pissed when you’re around.

“Who’s, Who’s gonna make me, your beanpole ass?” The guy laughs in the same aggravating drunken tone, still holding on to your wrist. Suddenly, the grin on his face fades and he lets go as if you were on fire. 

You look back at Reid to see he’s pulled out his FBI credentials. “C’mon,” he murmurs in your ear while picking up the forgotten tray of drinks, “Let’s get these back to the table before Garcia starts getting anymore ideas.” 

You wonder what he means by anymore ideas, until you take a closer look at him. He’s dressed as Dracula. 

“Did she tell you to dress up like that, by any chance?” You ask him, and Reid nods, jaw clenching. Clearly, he’s unhappy at the thought of matching with you.

“Brought me a costume. I didn’t think to question it until I saw you over at the bar, dressed as a vampire also. I think she’s got this idea that we fight because we have chemistry but I would argue that we fight simply because we dislike each other. Us in a relationship? As if….” He trails off at that point, before giving you a once over. “You do look good though, perhaps if you dressed like that everyday I’d dislike you less.”

You didn’t even know what to say to that. Spencer Reid doesn’t like you. Spencer Reid is onto Garcia’s ill-advised plan to get the two of you together. Spencer Reid thinks you look hot. 

Before you can even think of a clever retort, the two of you were back at the table and you decide to let it drop and enjoy the night.

\----------- 

You can’t drop it. The entire night Spencer fucking Reid seems to be doing everything in his power to annoy you. He sits next to you -- something he actively avoids on a normal day -- which encourages comments on how the two of you look like a couple from Garcia and Morgan. (Morgan was definitely in on Garcia’s plan, you just knew it.) He keeps ‘accidentally’ drinking from your glass, ‘accidentally’ brushing up against you, ‘accidentally’ placing his hand on your lower back to move around you. 

Seven shots and far too many beers later, you’ve had enough of Reid’s antics. You can’t understand what is happening. He tells you he dislikes you and then, if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s flirting with you. The emotional whiplash is too much for your drunk mind to handle. Especially when there’s something about his actions that gives you butterflies. Maybe it’s that he did look kind of hot in his costume, or maybe it’s the copious amounts of alcohol you’re drinking. You make your excuses and go to the bathroom to get a moment’s peace from Reid’s behaviour. 

Luckily, the ladies room is empty and you take a moment to look at yourself in the mirror. You push your hair back and clean up your make up a little. The door opens and you ignore it, more focused on reapplying your mascara. That is, until you notice that Reid is standing directly behind you.

“What the fuck?” You whip round to face him. “This is the ladies room, Spencer. Get out!” 

“You called me Spencer,” He mutters, taking a step towards you. “You’ve never call me just Spencer. Wait, no. Once when you were sad and angry and we weren’t at work. But i digress.”

“What is going on with you tonight, Reid? You’ve been acting like an asshole all night and I don’t get it. Am I missing some kind of joke?” You ask, leaning against the sinks; you’re drunker than you thought. 

“Sometimes, I wonder why I don’t like you. It seems… like we’re wasting our time, you know? Fuck, I’m drunk.” You don’t think you’ve ever heard him swear before. “I had reasons for disliking you, y’know. Legitimate reasons that made sense, because you’re incredibly annoying and unnecessarily bitchy and reckless at work, so reckless. I don’t think any of them matter anymore, if anything matters. But I can’t like you and I don’t want to like you and we can’t be friends. Does that make sense?” 

He moves closer to you and you can barely breathe. You don’t understand what’s happening right now. Reid’s an asshole, your brain repeats again and again. But a smaller voice reminds you that he’s a very good looking asshole. He’s so close you could touch him. Do you want to touch him? 

And then, you’re betrayed by your stomach. You suddenly feel it, the last few shots that you really shouldn’t have taken but Penelope bullied you into drinking, about to come back up. You push past Reid and barely make it to the toilet bowl before upheaving your entire stomach content. 

How embarrassing. Reid will never let you live this moment down. 

And yet, he holds your hair and rubs your back and whispers words you can’t quite make out to you in a soothing voice. You finish and he helps you back up, keeping you steady in the ridiculous shoes that are far too high but make your legs look oh so good. 

“I think we should get you home. Go back to the table and tell Garcia you’re not feeling well. I’ll be back in a second, and get us a cab back to our building, okay?” He instructed smoothly, before all but pushing you out of the bathroom. 

You follow his orders and with a few knowing looks from Penelope (what could she even know, you wonder), he hauls you into a cab. Too drunk and beyond the stage of feeling embarrassed, you rest your head on his shoulder. For such a skinny asshole, he’s quite comfortable. The cab stops, and he pays the driver, helping you carefully out of the backseat. Entering the building he takes you up to his apartment. His apartment, not yours. 

“Reid, I don’t live here.” You slur your words and regret the amount you’d drank once more. 

“No you don’t, but I don’t think you should be by yourself right now considering how much of a mess you are. Don’t you know how to handle your liquor?” He sighs, and you think he looks annoyed again.

“Reid.”

“Y/N.” 

“I can’t stay here. This is your place.” You repeat yourself again and again until he comes over and takes your arms. 

“Come here. I’ll get you some pyjamas and you can go change in the bathroom. Then, you can sleep in bed and I’ll take the sofa. You can wake me if you need anything. Okay?” He pulls you towards the bedroom and into the bathroom, before placing a pile of clothes in your hands. 

You change slowly, struggling with basic motor function. You promise yourself to never get this drunk again. Eventually you make your way out of the bathroom and into a bed that looks strangely comfortable. 

“So this is where the enemy sleeps.” You murmur, unable to keep your eyes open any longer. You swear you hear Reid chuckle, but before you can say anything else, you pass out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the line "so this is where the enemy sleeps" is a quote from my fave film of all time almost famous


	9. hangovers and visits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> y/n wakes up in reid's apartment; later reid shows up unannounced

The next morning you wake up slowly; you feel like someone’s whacked you in the head with a two by four. You’re not normally one for hangovers, but Penelope is an expert at getting you to drink far more than your brain tells you is sensible. 

You don’t want to get up: you don’t remember your bed ever being this comfy, or smelling this good. It smells like... wait a second. 

Spencer. Spencer who watched you puke your guts out. Spencer who took you home, to his apartment. Spencer who gave you his very comfortable and only bed.

You suddenly feel incredibly unsure of yourself — why would he do all that for you? His actions seem very much at odd with his words of distaste last night and his general attitude towards you. Spencer Reid doesn’t like you, and now you don’t even know what to say to him, how to act around him. 

Cringing, you slowly get out of bed — Spencer Reid’s bed — and try to ignore the pounding in your head. You notice you’re in a pair of sweatpants that are way too long on your legs, and an old academy t-shirt. He gave you his clothes — something about that seems awfully sweet to you, and suddenly you don’t know why you’re smiling. 

You get to the bedroom door and you falter. You’re pretty good at navigating social situations but you don’t know how to navigate this one. Wincing, you make your way out, to see Reid sitting in his kitchen, two cups of coffee on the island.

“Good morning, Y/N, how are you feeling?” He asks quietly, which you’re so very grateful for. 

“Hungover, but I think I’ll live.” you yawn, voice slightly croaky from overuse the night before.

Spencer gives you a small smile and passes you a coffee mug; black with no sugar, your go to order at work. Of course he knew it. You nod your thanks and hold on to your cup as if it’s your life line. And it is, for this situation is too much for you to handle, hungover at nine in the morning. 

The two of you grow quiet, drinking your coffee in silence. It’s good coffee, at least. You find yourself watching Reid, having never really spent that much time alone with him. He’s not looking at you but a book he has open in one hand; he’s not reading it: he’s turned the page maybe three times since you came out here. You have the realisation that actually he’s kind of attractive in his t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up and his slightly messy hair and glasses, and you very much start to question when you started thinking of Reid, annoying baby genius, as good looking. 

You can’t stop watching his hands. The way he holds his mug, his book. The way he runs them through his hair at one point. 

There’s a tension in the room and you don’t quite know what it is. Perhaps it’s the fact that Reid almost definitely knows you’re watching him and hasn’t said anything. Perhaps it’s the realisation that you definitely don’t dislike this man as much as you’ve been saying.

“Did you have fun last night? Crowded bars don’t really seem like your thing, but did you enjoy the whole Halloween thing?” You ask him, hoping that something, anything, will break the stifling tension in the room. You wonder if he feels it too. 

“Oh yeah, it was a great night. You know, watching you vomit pure alcohol at the bar and then waiting to see if you’d do it again in my apartment was a thrilling experience.” His jaw clenches and his hands tighten on his mug. He looks annoyed again. You hate that expression on his face.

You flush, not exactly sure how to deal with that comment. “Well no one asked you to look after me Reid, so if I ruined your night that’s your own fault.”

He muttered something along the lines of ‘well someone needed to,’ but you ignore him and focus on downing the rest of your coffee, slamming the mug on the counter and regretting that action instantly. The sound reverbed through your head in the worst way.

“I’ll just get out of here then, so you don’t have to deal with me any longer,” You spy your stuff and scoop it up. “Thanks for looking after me. I’ll see you at work.” 

You risk one more look at him and he has the strangest look on his face, one you can’t quite place. You walk out and close the door softly. 

Once in your own apartment you run though your morning routine, showering, brushing the taste of vodka and vomit out of your mouth, lots more coffee. You stand there in a towel waiting for the coffee to heat up, staring at Reid’s clothes for a full minute. You put them back on.

You begin your run through of the events of the prior night and the oddest morning you’ve ever experienced. 

Point one: Penelope Garcia and vodka are not to be trusted. 

Point two: men are pigs, especially drunk men, except perhaps Spencer Reid. 

Point three: Spencer Reid dislikes you, a lot, but is attracted to you.  
Point four: Spencer Reid cornered you in a bathroom, started ranting about something you couldn’t quite remember, and then held your hair as you threw up. 

Point five: Spencer Reid took you home and made sure you were safe and okay. 

Point six: Spencer Reid made you coffee in the morning and gave up his bed for you. 

You didn’t know what to think. This was a side of Reid you’d never seen before. The idea that he could be nice to you, was a foreign concept. After all, he’d never once done it. He was the boy that pushed all your buttons at work, would make mean comments at your expense, would pull pranks and nasty tricks on you. And here he was, calling you attractive, making you coffee in the morning, letting you sleep in his apartment. 

The contradictions were too many for your hungover brain to process. You sigh and head into your own bedroom, flopping into bed. For the first time, you’re almost mournful that it doesn’t smell like Spencer Reid. 

\-----------------------

You’d spent the day the way you spend all hangover days: in bed watching reruns of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Unproductive, but all so satisfying. There was no way you could stomach lunch, but you’d ordered the greasiest pizza for dinner and was in the process of waiting for it to show up. 

A knock at the door has you bolting out of bed, motivated only by the idea of hot, greasy cheese after a day of feeling like crap. You fling open the door expecting to see Colin, your regular delivery man. However, this was not Colin. Standing in your door way was Spencer Reid. 

“Reid? What are you doing here?” You ask, confused at seeing him twice in the same day. He normally avoided you like the plague, at work but even more so outside of it. 

“You’re still wearing my clothes.” He has the strangest look on his face, and your eyes widen in realisation. 

“My clothes now, you’re never getting them back,” you smirk at him before asking, “Is there a reason you’re at my door?”

“Oh! Um yes. Well. Um You see the plumbing in my apartment is having some issues and a shower pipe burst this afternoon and I was just wondering if maybe you would let me, y’know, use your shower? Um this was stupid, I should just go and ask uh… someone else.” He rambled, looking awfully embarrassed.

You sigh, glad that he was here for something relatively normal and not to start a fight or bitch about their last encounter. “Yes, come on in.”

He awkwardly walks into your place, and once again you wish you’d cleaned better. Between perpetually being out of town and attacks of the lazies when at home, your place was never that neat. 

“Our apartment layouts are the same, so uh, you know where the bathroom is. There are spare towels in the linen closet on the left.” You smiled awkwardly, and he nodded back. 

Why was this so uncomfortable? 

You heard the shower switch on and you sat on the couch, clicking your reruns back on. You could barely pay attention. All you could think about was the fact that Reid was in your shower. Naked. 

You hate that this is where your thoughts have ended up. You need clarity, so you decided to text Penelope and hope that she gives you the answers you need.

_YOU: reid is in my shower_

_PEN: no sorry what i think i misread that WHAT DO YOU MEAN HES IN YOUR SHOWER_

_PEN: does this mean you two are finally making with the sexy times because if so derek owes me $20_

_YOU: omg no shut up !!!! he was so weird last night and then he literally took me to HIS apartment and let me have his bed AND THEN he made me coffee ?? but got bitchy right after ?? so i leave and then all of a sudden he knocks on my door tonight and asks to use my shower bc his is broken ??? what do i do ?????_

_PEN: jump him. literally just have sex with him. i swear he’s in love with you_

_YOU: no he literally told me last night he doesn’t like me multiple times but seriously what do i do this whole thing is weird right_

_PEN: okay my baby angel yes it is weird but just go with it maybe you’ll finally end up getting rid of all that sexy tension you have going on ;))_

_YOU: i hate you so bad! shit he’s out the shower g2g_

_PEN: don’t do anything i wouldn’t do ;))_

You throw your phone across the couch and groan. Penelope is great and you love her to death but the girl’s fixation on you and Reid becoming a couple is really too much at times. 

Suddenly, Reid appears in your living room, dripping wet and wearing nothing but a towel. You blush and turn away, but you find a part of yourself looking appreciatively at his body. He’s skinny, but in a toned sort of way. You’d thought he’d be more scrawny but his body is… fit. He’s better looking that you’d thought. Not that you’d thought about it. You definitely don’t think about Spencer Reid and his body and his attractiveness. 

“Reid, have you heard of clothes?” You screech, trying to snap yourself out of your appreciation of his body. 

“I have, you’re actually wearing mine.” He smirks at you before walking towards his satchel. You hadn’t even noticed he’d brought it up here with him. “My clean clothes are in here.” 

“Oh. Well I already told you I’m keeping these. They’re the newest exhibit in my collection of things I’ve stolen from the houses of men I’ve visited.” You laugh, trying not to focus on the entire lack of clothes Reid was wearing. Oh god, he was naked under that towel. 

“You have a collection? You really are a kleptomaniac.” He shakes his head, and you can’t stop noticing how good his hair looks wet. Stop it. 

“No, it’s reparations. They annoy me, I take something. Simple as.” You inform him, and he laughs at you. 

“Right, well I’ll make sure not to annoy you next time you’re at my place.” He smiles before heading back into the bathroom to change. 

You sit there, confused. Next time? He expected there to be a next time? 

Once again, he exited your bathroom, this time clothed. You were relieved; you didn’t think you could handle seeing Reid almost naked again tonight. 

“Thanks for letting me use your shower, Y/N. I appreciate it.” He says, “I’ll let myself out now.” 

And with that, before you could even form any words, he was gone. You sat in silence for a moment, processing what had just happened. Spencer Reid, in your shower. 

A knock at the door startles you. Going to open it, you half hope that it’s Reid again. It’s not; your pizza has finally arrived. You pay and bring your pizza to the kitchen counter. After everything, you find that you’re not that hungry after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a quick thank you <3 to everyone who's commented or left kudos!! thank u so much like i really thought no one would read this let alone like it so it makes me so happy ppl do <3


	10. shootings and sleepless nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> penelope gets shot; reid and y/n spend more time together than expected

Penelope. Someone had shot Penelope. Shot. She was alive, is alive, but barely. Who would shoot her, of all people? Penelope is the sweetest, purest person you know. A ray of sunlight in a cruel and unforgiving world. A beam of colour, when everything around her is in shades of grey. For Penelope to -- you can’t even think about the word -- would make the world a far darker and uglier place. 

You get the call from JJ, who sounds like she’s trying so hard to hold it together but underneath is an emotional wreck. Who wouldn’t be, making that call? You barely remember to grab your bag and your car keys as you hurtle out the door and run for the elevator. You have to be there, you need to be there. 

The elevator is notoriously slow in your building and you wish you had taken the stairs. It stops at the floor below yours, doors slowly opening while you stand there, tapping your foot impatiently waiting for whoever called the elevator to get on. The doors finally open. It’s Reid. 

You look up at him, wide-eyed and not knowing what to say. He looks as bad as you feel, the same shellshocked look in his eyes. There is a moment of understanding between you, and unspoken truce passed for the time being. Penelope Garcia is more important than your petty feuds. 

“Spencer,” your voice breaks and you begin to tear up, “What if something…”

He cuts you off. “Don’t even say that. She’s going to be fine. She will be fine.” 

It sounds as if he’s trying to convince himself as much as he is trying to convince you. Both of you desperately try to cling on to the hope that she will be. 

The elevator doors finally open on the first floor and Reid moves to leave, but you grab his hand. It’s warm and soft, and you can’t be thinking about him like that right now. 

“Reid, I’ll drive us. It will be faster.” You say, with a hint of embarrassment, as if him rejecting your offer would be a bad thing. As if he’d even reject your offer right now. Normally you’d use any excuse to get away from him. A year of being on team and of living in the same building and you’d never offered to drive him anywhere. Today was different. Today was for Penelope.

He nods, stepping away from the doors and you continue the descent to the parking lot. You don’t let get go of his hand until the old elevator doors creak open and you begin speed walking to your car. Holding hands with Reid, with the enemy? What was wrong with you?

The team rarely let you drive. You tend to take the speed limit and other general rules of the road as guidelines rather than hard fact. Today was no different. You were speeding as inconspicuously as you could, trying not to get caught by local cops, but fast enough to be at the hospital fifteen minutes quicker than it should have taken you. Spencer looks tense as he hops out your car, and you can’t tell if it's your driving or the situation that has him looking almost green in the face. 

The two of you rush into the waiting area, where you find Hotch and JJ. If they are surprised at you both arriving together, they say nothing of it.

“She’s in surgery, there’s no word yet.” JJ tells you both sympathetically. You close your eyes. You still cant believe this situation is really happening. Penelope has to be okay, she has to be. 

“This is crazy.” Reid looks broken hearted, and it hurts you to look at him. 

Thankfully, Rossi and Emily arrive soon after. Their arrival allows you to stop fixating on Reid. Reid. When did he become so important in this mess of a night? Morgan still hasn’t shown up to the hospital, and a concerned Hotch sends Reid off to call him. 

Morgan eventually shows up and you all stay in that waiting room, waiting, hoping, praying for good news. Emily, JJ and yourself sit close together, holding hands just a little too tightly. Garcia was the loudest amongst you and without her the silence was deafening. You watch as Morgan paces angrily, on the verge of violence. Hotch and Rossi are talking under their breath and while you can’t hear them, you know the words they say are very likely not good. Reid is just standing there, looking lost. You think that you would all be lost without Garcia on your team. 

After what seems like years, a surgeon comes out from behind the doors, the doors you couldn’t bare to look at. You all rush to hear what he has to say, knowing that his words will either decimate you or provide relief beyond anything. He begins to describe Garcia’s injuries and you can barely understand what he’s saying, barely hear him speak. You think you’re in shock. A large hand grabs your shaking one. Reid. He doesn’t look at you but he squeezes your hand, just enough that you know he’s there, that he’s got you, that you’re not going to lose it.

“...She can walk out of here in a couple of days, it’s a minor miracle.” The doctor finishes and the atmosphere instantly changes. 

You can breathe again. You can breathe. You are still holding Reid’s hand. You quickly let go.

Hotch spurs into action, sending himself and Rossi to the crime scene and leaving the rest of you to wait for Penelope to wake up. When she does wake, she finds most of the team at her bedside ready to investigate and find the man who hurt her. Nobody hurts a member of the BAU and gets away with it.

\--------------

Later, Morgan agrees to stay at the hospital with Penelope while the rest of you head to the office to work on the case. Wordlessly you and Spencer walk to your car, reeling from the fact that Garcia was specifically targeted by the UNSUB, that this wasn’t some cruel twist of fate. You drive, slower than normal. You needed to think. Reid seemed grateful for it at least, for once not holding onto the dashboard or his legs until his knuckles turned white. Garcia was specifically targeted. What did that mean for the rest of the team?

You get out the car, slamming the door harder than necessary. Reid shoots you a look of concern. 

“Do you think this was random, that he chose Penelope? Do you think someone is coming after the team?” Quietly you look up at him. He looks almost concerned and a part of you wonders if he’d be this upset if it were you in that hospital bed. 

“I don’t know. It’s definitely a possibility and we shouldn’t rule it out until we’re absolutely sure. Are you okay?” Reid looks around the parking lot, as if the UNSUB could show up there and then.

“No. None of us are or will be until this is over.” You say with absolute certainty.

“Do you feel safe?” Genuine concern was in his voice, you almost didn’t recognise it. 

“No, how can I when our friend was just shot in cold blood?” Your voice breaks and a tear slips out. You turn away from him, embarrassed. 

“Stay at mine tonight. I mean, you probably shouldn’t be alone and statistically we’d be better off if someone was to attack us, not that I think anybody will but --” You look at him and he seems so flustered by the words that had come out of his mouth, as if he hadn’t expected to really say them. 

“Okay.” You try and give him a shaky smile, but it doesn’t really work. The two of you slowly walk into the FBI building, ready to put in all the work necessary to find the man that shot Penelope Garcia. 

\-------------------

You’d been up for well over a day, and so far no leads were turning up, it was as if the man Penelope described to you didn’t exist. Hotch sends you all home for some well-needed rest when there’s still nothing by ten at night; there was no way anyone was finding anything new without at least one good night’s rest. 

Reid comes up behind you as you start to pack up your desk. He’d been ignoring you since the parking lot, and you were starting to wonder if his offer was no longer on the table. You’re prepared for him to continue to pretend you don’t exist, but he gently grabs your arm. 

“Are you ready to go? I still think you should stay with me tonight.” He murmurs in your ear, as if he didn’t want to risk being overheard. That was fine by you. You didn’t want any speculation about your relationship with Reid. You were perfectly happy being at odds with him at work. This was just… temporary. 

You speed on the way home and he comments on your driving again, calling you reckless. In response, you call him weak and question his ability to do his job. For a moment, things feel normal.

You go to your apartment first, alone, to pick up essentials for spending the night at Reid’s. Spending the night at Reid’s. Again. This time by choice, this time sober. You weren’t exactly sure how you were meant to act when staying at the home of your kind-of-enemy or what exactly he was expecting from you. 

Your mind almost goes to the comment he’d once made about hate fucking you and you slam the lid on that idea immediately. This was not the time. 

Aimlessly, you pick up a t-shirt and sweatpants (both stolen from previous ex-boyfriends) and your wash bag. You take a moment to check yourself out in the bathroom. Your face is too pale and your eyes are too wide and your make up is smudged and you look as if someone actually died. Breathing deeply, you remind yourself that Penelope is going to be fine. 

\--------------

You’d never been in Reid’s apartment, not properly. The time you were drunk and hungover doesn’t really count, you think. It looks a lot like yours, but somewhat neater. Books of all kind were everywhere, on every surface imaginable. His place looked lived in, cozy; you were kind of envious of how inviting it looked. 

And so you stand awkwardly in the doorway, wearing your stolen sweats and holding your wash bag like a teenage girl going to her first sleepover. He smiles wanly and cautiously you enter. He’s wearing sweatpants that look slightly too short on his long legs and an academy t-shirt again. A part of you wonders if you’d been at the academy at the same time, but surely you’d have remembered him and his aversion to the physical side of the course. 

“I’ll take the couch this time, I’d hate to kick you out your bed a second time.” Especially as there was no way you could sleep, knowing Penelope’s attacker was still out there.

“If you say so, Y/N. I’m going to sleep.” He looks uneasily at you and then shuffles off into his room. You look at the couch, where he’d placed a pillow and a few blankets. How thoughtful of him. You lie down, wrapping yourself in blankets and hoping sleep in turn will blanket you.

It doesn’t. By two in the morning, you are exhausted from tossing and turning. There is no way you're sleeping. Reid’s couch was comfortable, and you’d have felt unsafe in your own place right now. But the fact that the UNSUB was just out in the city getting away with the crime he's committed against one of your best friends has you on edge. 

Suddenly, you hear a noise coming from the doorway to Reid’s room. You sit up sharply. Then, a light. It blinds you for a moment and you wait for your eyes to adjust. 

“Sorry, I… I wanted a glass of water and I couldn’t sleep. Do you want one?” His voice is scratchy from having just woken up and you’re jealous that he got even a little sleep. 

“Please,” you nod, “That would be good.” 

Reid brings two glasses over and carefully sits next to you on the couch. There has to be at least a foot between the two of you. He hands you a glass and you take a sip, closing your eyes and trying to remain calm. 

“Uh, are you unable to sleep because of the couch? Because if you want you can take the bed, it’s really okay.” He mumbles so quietly you almost don’t catch it. 

“It’s fine, I -- I just get the worst insomnia on cases, especially when they get personal. I wasn’t really expecting to sleep tonight.” You confess to him. You’d never told anyone that before. What was it about Reid that had you spilling all your secrets? 

“I can’t really sleep either. Did you want to watch the television or something? Take our minds off the case at least a bit?” He asked you, once again speaking so quietly it was as if he was afraid of you hearing. You nod, and he picks up a remote. The small television sparks to life, and you sit quietly and begin to watch whatever sci-fi marathon was on.

Of course Spencer’s television was switched to the sci-fi channel. 

Suddenly, it was morning. While it wasn’t really light out yet, you could see the sun beginning to peek through the curtains, the imperceptible shift in the air that occurs signalling light bird song. You take note of where you are: on Reid’s couch, head on a pillow… no. Head on Reid’s shoulder. He was still asleep and you don’t think you’d ever seen him look so peaceful. You smile softly before realising how fucked this situation was for you. You don’t like Reid. Reid doesn’t like you. Sleeping with him on his couch is past the point of okay. 

Ever so slowly, you make your way to the bathroom with a strange feeling in your stomach. Why was sleeping next to Spencer Reid the best sleep you’d had in months?

\-----------------

A few days later, a break in the case. Later, an actual suspect. Finally, a dead UNSUB. It was over. Penelope was safe. The team was safe. You could stop sleeping at Reid’s. 

You’d been over there every night for a week, and every night was the same routine. You’d pretend to sleep on his sofa, he’d pretend to sleep in his bed. At the early hours in the morning he’d enter the kitchen ‘for some water,’ and end up on the sofa next to you, where the two of you would sleep, your head on his shoulder and his arm slung carelessly around you. You’d wake up first and disentangle yourself, spending too long in the shower thinking about how sleeping next to Spencer Reid was just a little bit too comfortable for you. 

After everything is wrapped up with the case, you drive him home from work again. Normally the ride would be silent -- the two of you really didn’t speak much when you weren’t at each other’s throats. That silence was almost uncomfortable, as if the two of you had everything to say to each other, but chose to say nothing instead. Sometimes, you think that if you didn’t dislike Reid so much, the two of you could be friends. But you had to maintain that distance. Because if you became friends with him… 

“So uh I guess things can go back to normal for us now, right? Y’know, me sleeping at my own place, us fighting at the office, almost as if this whole thing didn’t happen.” You say to him, a part of you hurting ever so slightly at the idea of things returning to normal. The idea of things returning to how they had been after this week, why was that so difficult for you?

You look over at him to see him giving you the most scrutinising look. His face goes blank for a second before he says, “Of course, this never happened. Life goes on with its fragile normalcy as always, Y/N.”

You feel both relieved and disappointment at his dismissal of the tentative almost friendship you’d built. To be disappointed was unfair; it was you who called it off first. 

Pulling in to your usual parking space, you were barely able to turn the ignition off before Reid jumps out your car and is half way to the elevator. You watch, confused by his actions, as he disappears behind the doors and leaves you to wait for the elevator to return. 

Perhaps things going back to normal between the two of you would be easier than you’d thought.


	11. sleep and comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the case is tough; reid and y/n come up with a solution for their insomnia

Going ‘back to normal’ with Reid meant one thing: arguing in the office again. It wasn’t as intense as before, you didn’t pull tricks and he didn’t outright insult you. But the air between you is definitely frostier than it was before. 

“I thought you two were finally starting to see eye to eye on things.” Emily questions one day, the two of you loitering outside the round table room before a briefing. You look down to the bullpen, where Reid sits at his desk. 

“I don’t know Em, I think Penelope’s shooting kind of put a temporary stop to our feud or whatever you want to call it, but I don’t think things will ever really change.” You wrap your arms around yourself; you don’t know where you and Reid stand, but you’re not about to ask Emily her opinion on your little sleepovers. “Besides, do you know how many times that man has straight to my face told me he dislikes me? Way too many for us to ever have a meaningful friendship.”

“Okay but when you stopped openly fighting and were ignoring each other instead, JJ and I thought that would, y’know, perhaps be the first step on the way to friendship for you both. I guess not, if you’re going to argue like kids again!” She exclaims, and you laugh. 

“I guess me and Reid will just never see eye to eye -- I mean he’s like what, eight inches taller than me, and a scorpio? We’re like destined to not get on.” You joke weakly, knowing the two of you can get on and have gotten on and that far more has happened between you than Emily knows.

Sometimes you wonder if you should tell the girls about all your encounters with Reid. The one where you stole his drugs, the one where he cornered you in the club, the one where you slept together on his couch repeatedly, the one where he mentioned fucking you against the wall. 

Well, that last one was definitely staying private. After all, he was high and it was late and he definitely didn’t mean it. 

Doesn’t mean you don’t think about it, far more than you’d be willing to admit. 

You can’t tell the girls about you and Spencer Reid. They’ll read into it, create false stories of a budding relationship with him, and that couldn’t be any further from the truth. Spencer Reid aggravates you with his know-it-all behaviour and stupid sense of humour. If anything, the arguments you’d been getting into recently were the sign of your fragile relationship shattering into pieces.

The rest of the team trails into the round table room to hear about the case. Cannibalism out in California; the thought of it turns your stomach. There’s no way you’d be sleeping during this case. 

\---------------

You’d stupidly left your go bag in the car and had to double back to grab it before making it onto the jet. You look around and see there’s only one seat left; a seat next to Reid. You sigh, you’d normally try to be one of the first few people on the jet. Mostly, to avoid sitting next to him, especially on a five hour flight. 

As you fall into the chair, Emily laughs, “Uh oh, the sworn enemies are sitting together. How long do you think until they start fighting?” 

Morgan joins in with her and even Hotch manages a small smile. This is so embarrassing. You look over at Reid and see him watching you. He has a funny look on his face and you find yourself feeling more and more uncomfortable. 

“What are you looking at, Baby Genius? Don’t you have a degree to be working on or whatever?” You snap, falling back on your natural instinct to lash out whenever you felt trapped. 

“Um, I’m actually working a degree in philosophy right now, but it’s really --” Reid starts, clearly not getting the fact that you were being sarcastic. 

“Pretty Boy, I don’t think she meant for you to answer that question.” Morgan chuckles and Reid looks embarrassed. 

You didn’t know how you are supposed to put up with this for five hours. 

The first hour is manageable; you listen to music, putting your headphones in and blocking out the rest of the team. You see Morgan doing the same while Emily and JJ gossip, no doubt about you and Reid. The genius in question was reading War and Peace, in its original Russian, because of course he would be. It’s like he lived to be obnoxious. You’re almost jealous, languages had never been a subject you took easily to, so watching Reid speed through the lengthy novel annoys you to no end. You close your eyes and hope that this journey ends soon. 

The second hour, Reid starts talking to you. At first you don’t hear him, seeing his mouth move and his eyes focused on you. Then, he pulls out one of your earbuds. 

“What, asshole?” You mutter, trying not to grab the attention of everyone else on the plane. 

“You know, listening to music that loud can damage your hearing irreversibly. You’re listening to loud rock music on what, top volume? That on an iPhone is a hundred and two decibels. It only takes seventy decibels to damage hearing if you’re listening over a prolonged time. Are you actually trying to deafen yourself, or are you just trying to play your music loud enough to distract anyone around you from what they’re doing?” He lectures, causing you to roll your eyes. Of course he knows exact numbers for his silly little facts. 

“Aw, was I distracting you from your novel, Baby Genius? Or is your attention span just too short to read Tolstoy?” You ask quietly, neglecting to mention that you’ve never been able to work your way through War and Peace in its entirety, but your dig works. Reid narrows his eyes at you. 

“I’ve actually read War and Peace ninety-seven times. I first read it when I was eleven. I just wanted to make you aware of the fact that your music is obnoxious.” He retorts, loud enough to garner the attention of the rest of the team. 

Great. 

“Can you two refrain from arguing until we at least get off this plane? It’s like travelling with children.” Rossi calls over to you, and you just about die of embarrassment. You couldn’t even go two hours without arguing with Reid, how pathetic. 

Hour three, the team got together to discuss the case. Four bodies, all missing limbs, all showing signs of cannibalism being involved. The few details the local police had were gruesome and you already felt like vomiting up the coffee you’d had for breakfast. The entire team look pale just thinking about this case: being called out to deal with a cannibal is thankfully a rare one for the team, but each case involving one is always repulsive and always ends badly. 

Hour four has you feeling sick to your stomach. Talking about the case, sitting next to Reid, being able to smell him and his stupid cologne, was too much for you. You were feeling entirely overwhelmed. You barely know how to deal with cases that are guaranteed a horrible ending, but it’s Reid that mostly has you in a tailspin. You don’t know how you’ve gone from hating him, to him being the only reason you could sleep when Penelope got shot, to having the weird tension between you now. Being inches away from him was both comforting and abrasive to you. 

The confusion and the case all together was too much for you; getting up from your seat, you almost run to the bathroom and throw up coffee and bile until there’s nothing left to expel from your body. You can hear murmuring from the main section of the plane and you sigh, knowing everyone just heard you vomit up your guts. Great. Exiting the bathroom, you see Reid standing there, bottle of water in his hand. 

“For you,” He thrusts the bottle into your hand. “Are you okay? This is… it’s a hard one.”

You take the water and down half the bottle. “I’m fine. Bad breakfast sandwich, I guess.”

Hour five has everyone asking if you’re okay. You tell them all that you’re fine, that this case will be fine, that everything is fine. 

You are not fine. 

\---------------

The case is as god-awful as anticipated. The first day involves looking at crime scenes and bodies that straight up belong in a horror movie. All your months on the job, practically a year of it, and nothing has scared you this bad. The case is awful. 

They partner you with Reid; because this case can’t be any worse for you. He watches you warily the entire day, as if the coffee you’ve been drinking all day (you can’t stomach food) is going to make a reappearance. It doesn’t. For once, the two of you don’t fight, too consumed by the nightmare scenarios playing out in your minds as to what could’ve happened to the victims. 

The night finds you alone in a shitty hotel room, alone. You’re terrified, now that you’re alone. Rationally, you know the UNSUB won’t come and kill you in your sleep; you’re not his type, you’re an FBI agent, you’re not even located in his hunting ground. But the fear and the paranoia has set in: you won’t sleep until you pass out from exhaustion.

By two in the morning, you’re sitting there in bed watching the small television blare out infomercials for things you’d never buy. All of a sudden, there’s a tentative knock at your door. Panicking, you grab your gun and move quietly to the peephole. Looking out, you see Reid standing there, holding something in his hands. You breathe a sigh of relief, opening the door.

“What are you doing here? I half thought you were the UNSUB.” You whisper, pulling him into the room as to not disturb the other guests. 

“Y/N, don’t be silly. The UNSUB wouldn’t knock.” Reid tells you matter of factly, and you roll your eyes. Like that makes it any better. “I know you don’t sleep on the hard cases. I don’t exactly sleep well on them either, so I thought maybe we could not sleep together. Oh, and I brought you tea.”

You stare blankly at him. So long, that he starts to mumble that maybe this was a bad idea and turns towards the door.

“Wait!” You say, before he can leave. “It’s a good idea. Can I have some of that tea?”

He hands you the cup, and you hold it like a lifeline. Something about Spencer at night is so comforting to you; he’s like a different person. 

The two of you end up sitting in your uncomfortably lumpy hotel bed, watching infomercials together. It brings you back to the nights in his apartment after Penelope was shot; watching old reruns together until you passed out. Those days, you’d put space between you, at least until you fell asleep. Here, in your bed, you were so close you were almost touching. 

You don’t know how you feel about that. 

His presence puts you at ease, makes you forget your fears. You are so tired you almost can’t remember the horrific details of the day. Curling up beside him, you fall asleep in an instant.

You wake up to Reid moving next to you; the alarm clock beside you states that it’s five in the morning. You’d slept for two hours, but it was the best two hours sleep you’d had in a while.

“What’s happening?” You murmur, not wanting to wake up. 

“I’ve got to go back to my own room, Y/N. I don’t think either of us particularly want to explain to the rest of the team why I’d be spending the night in your hotel room.” He responds, voice still deep from sleep.

You nod your head. That would be bad. Very much so. And so he slips out and you lie there and wonder why Spencer Reid is the best remedy for sleep you’ve ever experienced. 

\----------------

It’s not a short case. Bodies keep showing up without the leads to provide you with any direction whatsoever. Whoever the UNSUB is, he’s an expert at cleaning up his tracks. 

Every night, Reid shows up at your door like clockwork. You don’t even speak to each other at this point, you have the process down to a science. He shows up at around one, sometimes with tea if the day’s been particularly bad. Both of you get into bed with the television playing in the background, but neither of you really watch it. You curl up on your side, he lies on his back, your head on his chest, his arm around your shoulder. You sleep, uninterrupted for a few blissful hours. At around five, he wakes up and leaves. You watch him go and wish he could stay longer. Why do you wish he would stay, because you like sleep or because something about him is oddly comforting when nobody else is around?

On the seventh night, you wake first, and you watch him sleep. Once again, you’re reminded of how he’s almost attractive when he’s not in the process of annoying you. You watch him wake up and the two of you stare at each other for what feels like an age until you break the silence. 

“What is this?” you whisper to him, not wanting to move from the warmth he seems the emanate, the warmth exuding from the arm carefully thrown around you. 

“This? It’s nothing. Just two colleagues trying to get some sleep. You know as well as I do the benefits of touch and human contact on a person. And I don’t sleep on cases like this either. It’s… a mutually beneficial arrangement and nothing more.” He tells you, but he doesn’t let you go. He seems almost defensive.

Something inside you breaks at his statement, but you don’t know what it is or what it means. All you know is that you want Spencer Reid to keep appearing at your door, you want him to pretend to watch television with you and hold you while the two of you sleep. You don’t know what it means but it means something, it has to mean something. You realise that a part of you has felt so empty since doing this job, and whatever it is that Spencer Reid does to you fills that space. Whether its through your stupid little fights, or your quiet silences, or your late night sleep sessions. Whatever it is, you need it, you need him. 

And if he needs this to mean nothing other than sleep, then that’s what it will be. Just two people, using each other for sleep. And nothing more. 

He slips out sometime after that, before the sun properly rises, before anyone notices that he’s left his room. You lay there waiting for his side of the bed to cool, for his scent to stop lingering. Eventually the sun rises fully and you get up and get ready for the day. 

The team works the case, the team solves the case. You always do. It was bloody and gruesome and you’ll have nightmares for months, but the case is over and its done and the UNSUB is dead and will never be able to hurt anyone ever again. The case is over, but no one is celebrating. 

The plane ride home is subdued, and no one speaks the entire time. The ride to the office is just as quiet. You fill out your paperwork on the case then and there, wanting desperately to have it officially over with so you never have to think about Californian cannibals again. It’s dark out when you leave, and the bullpen is mostly empty. You drive home in silence. 

There’s a knock at your door at one in the morning. Sleep was not coming easy that night, and you’d almost been wishing Reid was there with you. You’d put on his clothes, the ones you’d stolen that night months ago, in the hopes that they’d comfort you enough to fall asleep. They hadn’t. They don’t smell like him anymore. 

You roll out of bed and trudge to the door. Looking through the peephole, you see him. Reid, standing in his usual pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, looking incredibly uncomfortable -- as if he was breaking some sort of rule by standing at your door in the early hours of the morning. 

“Spencer,” you say upon opening the door and standing aside to let him in, “What are you doing here?” 

“I know we said it was a one time thing, on the case only, but I can’t stop thinking about her. That last victim. I just, I just want to sleep and forget it all. But i can’t forget, so I’m aiming for sleep.” There’s something desperate in his eyes, as if he’s begging you silently to say the words. 

“Did you want to sleep here? My bed’s big enough for us both and uh, I can’t exactly sleep either.” You look at the floor, scared he’ll reject you, even though he’s the one that showed up on your doorstep. 

“Please can we? Just this once. I promise I won’t come here asking this of you again.” He looks like a kicked puppy. You lead him into the bedroom and for some reason you feel nervous. Why are you nervous? It’s just sleep. 

You crawl into your side of the bed and watch Reid climb into the other. You lie there, inches between you, but it feels like an ocean. 

He reaches out and grabs your hand. Slowly but surely, you fall into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the way i just don't know what's happening next with this story... this chapter came out of nowhere. like literally nowhere; i was going to write a fight between reid and y/n and then suddenly they're sleeping together?? okay. 
> 
> anyways thank u to everyone who's reviewed u've literally made my day <3


	12. arrangements and arguments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an unspoken arrangement, a falling out, a fight, a reconciliation

For the next two months, you sporadically sleep with Spencer Reid. Well -- perhaps sleep with is the wrong word. Sleep beside. Whenever a case gets particularly tough you find him at your hotel door, and you always let him in. Something about his vulnerability in those moments means you could never turn him down. Working at the BAU is hard, and you suspect that every member of your team has some sort of coping mechanism to deal with the trauma of the job. Yours just happens to be sleeping beside your supposed enemy. 

But, you aren’t really enemies anymore. You don’t know what you are. During the day you’re Agents Reid and Y/L/N, who bicker and have a mutual distaste for each other. At nights, when no one’s watching, you’re just Spencer and Y/N. There’s no box to place you neatly in; you’re not strangers, acquaintances, friends, lovers. You’re definitely more than colleagues at this point. There’s some sort of line, and the two of you crossed it months ago. 

Perhaps this coping mechanism isn’t healthy. If you told Emily or Garcia or JJ about it, they’d tell you you’re crazy, that you and Spencer have all sorts of Feelings for each other. You’re pretty good at not lying to yourself; you don’t have romantic feelings towards Spencer Reid. Sometimes you wish the two of you had more -- and you weren’t sure if that was platonically or sexually -- but you’re pretty sure that all you have now is all it will ever be. 

\---------------

No one could ignore the fact that your bickering with Reid is starting to taper off. You don’t have the energy for it anymore. Sure, you continue being somewhat obvious in your distaste for him and he’ll tell anyone who asks that he still doesn’t like you, but you stop arguing excessively and you stop ignoring each other and you settle into an understanding. There’s a somewhat comfortable silence between you. It doesn’t go unnoticed. How can it, when you work with a team of profilers?

“I feel like we ask you this every few months, but what’s going on with you and Spencer this time?” Emily corners you in Penelope’s office one day, and the technical analyst giggles at the uncomfortable look on your face. 

“Yes tell us all, my darling angel cakes. Even I’ve noticed that the two of you have cooled it on the fighting and you never even bitch about him these days! Morgan and I have barely anything to gossip about now when we talk about the two of you, because both of you have stopped complaining to us about each other! What am I meant to do with my time now?” Penelope exclaims. 

“Are you fucking? Is that what this is?” Emily questions, with a scrutinising look on her face. 

“Oh my God, I just don’t see the point in arguing with him anymore. I am not, I repeat not, fucking Spencer Reid!” You almost shout you’re so frustrated. Even if you wanted to sleep with him -- you don’t -- it’s not like he was interested either. 

Suddenly, Emily and Penelope’s eyes widen as they look behind you. You turn around, wincing when you see Spencer standing there. He looks bothered. He always does when you’re around. 

“Y/N and I are definitely not having intercourse, although I’m not too sure why that’s what the three of you talk about when you hide away in here. We don’t fight anymore because frankly she’s not worth the effort to fight with. Anyways, Hotch sent me to find you; we have a case.” He states matter of factly, leaving as abruptly as he came. 

“Not worth the effort. Ouch.” You say, your smile not quite reaching your eyes, your laugh sounding not quite genuine. 

Your friends smile sympathetically at you, as you leave to hear about another senseless tragedy unfolding elsewhere in the country.

\-----------------

You find yourself in a small town in Montana, a town so small the only motel had a grand total of four rooms. No one came out here, except a spree killer with anger issues. Emily ends up claiming you as her roommate. In any other situation, you’d be thrilled to spend time with the woman who’d become one of your closest friends. However, rooming with Emily came at the expense of being unable to spend the nights with Spencer. This would be the first case since you first started whatever it was you had going on that you’d be spending the nights alone. You don’t know quite how you feel about that. 

“Good thing Emily and Y/N are rooming together, could you imagine if it were Y/N and Reid? They’d either end up fighting or fucking and I don’t think any of us would wanna be hearing that!” Morgan sniggers. You flush and look subtly to Reid, who’s clenching his jaw.

None of them would know that you and Reid are more than capable of sharing a room without either of those things happening. 

The motel room you and Emily find yourself in is dingy, with a small queen bed sitting in the middle of the room. You’re not quite sure when the sheets were last washed or even changed, although you think you’d rather remain oblivious. 

“God, this might be the worst one yet.” Emily groans, as the two of you drop your go bags onto the single beat up chair in the room.

“There’s no way I’m getting in that bed, no matter how tired I get.” You laugh, as the two of you exit, ready to start a long afternoon of working the case. 

Late that night, the two of you sit on the edge of the bed, debating whether the risk of bedbugs is worth even a little bit of sleep. Emily caves first, slipping into bed. You follow her lead squirming uncomfortably at how scratchy the sheets are. 

Emily falls asleep. You don’t. You sit there and look out the dusty window, waiting for the sun to rise.

You’re exhausted the next day, you’d gotten too used to getting at least a few undisturbed hours of sleep with Reid. You’re aware of the fact that you look awful, but you’re too tired to care about the bags under your eyes and your excessive yawning. 

During a rare moment alone, you’re smoking a cigarette. You promise yourself it will be the last one. It won’t be. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Reid making his way over to you. Sighing, you wonder what exactly he’d have to say to you without the team present. He rarely, if ever, spoke to you alone on cases. 

“You look like shit.” 

“I didn’t sleep.” You don’t even bother returning the insult, even though he looks tired too. 

“Didn’t or couldn’t?” He asks quietly, a flicker of concern gone from his eyes before you could really notice it.

“Couldn’t. That motel is awful.” 

“Agreed.” You think this might be the first time he’s ever vocally concurred with you, ever. 

You take another drag of your cigarette, and he stares at you. 

“What?” You hate it when people stare. 

“Stop smoking.” With that, he snatched the half finished cigarette from your hand and put it out. 

“I hate you, Reid.” 

“No, you don’t.” He states with a ghost of a smile, and he’s right. You don’t hate him.

\--------------

Two days later, two more days of basically no sleep, the case is over. You’re thankful it was a short one; as much as you love Emily, you were desperate for your own room. Because more often than not, your own room would have Spencer. 

Maybe it should worry you that he’s the best sleep aid you’ve found. 

You find yourself sitting next to Reid on the plane ride home. Why is his aura so comforting to you? Tired beyond belief, you find yourself falling asleep and not waking until the plane began its descent to land. You wake up with your head on a familiar shoulder, and you groan inwardly. A part of you is surprised that Spencer didn’t wake you up sooner.

“Well good morning, sleeping beauty,” Morgan laughs mockingly as you open your eyes and shift yourself to put as much distance as possible between you and Spencer. “How was Spencer’s shoulder, more or less comfortable than those motel beds? He’s so skinny I don’t know what would be worse!”

“Shut up, Morgan, I already told you she didn’t sleep during the case. Besides, we already have more than enough photographic evidence of this occurring to never let either of them live this down.” Emily joins in. “Penelope is going to love this.”

You want to die of embarrassment. Spencer says nothing, but clenches his jaw. He does that a lot when you’re around, you notice. 

You note that he didn’t wake you up though, even though the team was around. 

\---------------------

When at home, you see Reid less. The first night back after a case, he more often than not finds his way to your door. Other nights, less so. Sometimes, even when nothing’s going on at work, he shows up anyways. You wonder what motivates him. It’s not an every night thing, but it’s regular enough that your bed feels almost empty without him. His presence is like a ghost; your bedroom is haunted by the idea of him and yet he never leaves a trace of himself. All you have of him is what he chooses to let you have on those nights he shows up, and the outfit you stole from him months before. Sometimes, you wear his clothes on the nights he comes. He never says anything. 

It’s always him that instigates this arrangement of yours. It’s always your hotel room, your apartment. It’s like he keeps it separate from himself, while it’s become integral to you.

You wonder when you became so codependent. 

One night in your apartment, you find yourself unable to sleep even though he’s in your bed, arm loosely draped around your shoulder. You can’t stop thinking. What is this? This arrangement doesn’t make sense by any stretch of the imagination. Two people with a mutual dislike for the other, practically unable to sleep unless they were sleeping with the other. It sounds like the plot of a bad romantic comedy. You desperately want answers as to why you feel like this, why Reid feels like this, why this is still happening. 

You prod Reid awake, to which he groggily asks you, “What’s happening?” 

“Reid. Reid. Why do you sleep here? We barely like each other and yet you spend more time in my bed than your own. What does this mean?” He’s barely awake but you’re begging him desperately for some kind of clarity. You need it.

“Can you really say you don’t like me after all this?” He mutters, rubbing sleep from his eyes. You don’t understand. 

“Spencer, you tell everyone you don’t like me. I know that, you know that. It’s been made very clear to me time and time again.” You’re so frustrated by the lack of answers.

“You’re right then, I don’t like you, I’ve never liked you. You know, you’re really not as smart as you think you are. Maybe if you’d stop being so obnoxiously self obsessed for once in your life, maybe people wouldn’t find you so annoying. Are you happy now?” He retorts sarcastically and you finally jerk out from his arms. 

“No Reid, of course I’m not happy. I’m sorry that I find this confusing, that I don’t have an IQ of 187 to help me figure out this situation.” You’re almost in tears and he sighs, once again clenching his stupid jaw. You want to punch it. 

“Can we just go back to sleep? I’m just… I didn’t mean it. You just… you confuse me too.” he looks at you and even though your heart hurts from his words, you don’t know if you can say no to him. You don’t want to say no to him. 

“Do you ever feel so alone, even when you’re around other people?” You ask, tears in your eyes. You don’t know where they came from.

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he pulls you into his arms again and you settle into his warm embrace. You allow him to do so, but his harsh words are still echoing in your ears.

This man seriously fucks with your head. It needs to stop. 

The next time he knocks on the door, you don’t answer. 

You don’t sleep. 

Every time he knocks, you don’t answer. It takes every bit of you to resist. You crave the warmth he provided you with, but you know whatever you had has to end.

He stops knocking on your door. You pretend you’re okay with it. 

You’re barely sleeping, especially on cases. It gets so bad that Hotch pulls you aside after you arrive back home to ask you if you’re alright, if you’re burning yourself out, if you’re sick. You know everyone is concerned for you, but you play it off. Nothing is wrong. How can anything be wrong when ending your little arrangement with Reid was for the best? 

You pretend you’re fine. 

The night after Hotch questions you about your lack of sleep, you wonder if you should quit the BAU. Clearly things are getting to you, clearly you’re not tough enough to stick it out. 

A banging on your door makes you jump. You know who it is, it wouldn’t be anyone else. Not after ten o’clock. 

You try to ignore him, but this time, he doesn’t give up.

“I’m not going away, Y/N, so you might as well let me in so we can talk.” He calls through the door and you sigh, knowing he means it.

You’ve barely let him in before he he starts. “What is wrong with you? I know you’re not sleeping, it’s clear to everyone. Why did you stop letting me in? Is it because of those things I said that night? I didn’t mean them, you have to know I didn’t. I lashed out, I ruined everything just like I always do, and I ruined this.” There’s a feral desperation behind his eyes. 

“It’s you, you’re what’s wrong with me. I can’t keep what is and what isn’t straight. We’ve fought like cats and dogs ever since we met and yet we spent the best part of two months sleeping in bed, in silence, together. Who the fuck does that? That’s not fucking normal behaviour, from either of us.” You’re on the verge of tears, and you beg yourself to not start crying. “You give me emotional whiplash, Reid. It’s like we have two different versions of ourselves. You might be able to keep them separated but they’ve blended together for me.”

“Have you ever heard of, I don’t know, communicating how you feel instead of just shutting me out?” He says sarcastically and you see red.

“How to fuck am I meant to communicate with you when we barely know each other? I don’t know who you are Reid. We’re not friends. We have this awful rivalry and I’m sick of it, sick of having to put up a front for everyone we know, when I’m tired of not liking you. I don’t know what I want or what I feel but I sure as shit don’t want this!” You turn to walk away from him, you feel the urge to flee, but he gently grabs onto your wrist.

“Do you want the truth?” Spencer asks and you nod desperately. “I don’t hate you. I can’t hate you. I don’t even dislike you anymore. You’ve been so desperate to write me in as your enemy, as someone who can’t stand you, that you’re missing what’s right in front of you. We’re… We’re friends. It’s an unconventional friendship that started in a way I don’t particularly want to tell anyone about, but if you paid attention you’d see that we have some kind of friendship. It’s not my fault you’ve been so wrapped up in this narrative you’ve created, filled with contrasts that don’t connect, that you haven’t noticed that my dislike of you ended long ago.”

You blink, stunned into silence. Had you really been so sure of his feelings that you’d tricked yourself into not seeing what was right in front of you? Had you cast him into a role that he’d been forced to act out with you, despite not truly meaning the things he said? You aren’t sure. All you know is that Spencer Reid wants to be friends with you. And you realise that this is all you’ve wanted since he started sleeping in your bed. Friendship. 

“Besides,” His voice cracks as he starts speaking again, “Did you think that I didn’t feel the, the emotional whiplash too? You’re not the only one who feels things, Y/N.” 

You don’t even know what to say. 

“Say something, anything.” He implores. 

“So… We’re friends? I don’t even know how to be friends with you, Reid.” You sigh and he just looks at you.

“We’ll figure it out. In a way that works for us.” Spencer states with an optimism so pure it changes the atmosphere completely.

“Okay. I… Okay.” You nod. A weight feels like its been lifted from your shoulders. 

You’ve missed him. You won’t say it to his face, but you’ve missed him.

“Can you… sleep here tonight? I haven’t been sleeping and I know it’s stupid but…” You trail off, hoping he’ll agree to stay the night.

“I know, and it’s not stupid. I haven’t been sleeping either.” He admits and the two of you cautiously head towards your bedroom, an agreement of friendship reached.

You might be back to your previous arrangement, but everything’s changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one was a lot to write. anyways they're friends now? let's see how that goes. all the love xo


	13. friendship and bars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> y/n and reid explore their friendship, the team are confused, drinking is involved

You aren’t really sure how to form a friendship with Reid, but things start to change between you slowly but surely. It starts with him knocking on your door at ten o’clock, hours before he usually would. 

“You’re early,” you comment as he walks in, “What’s up?”

“I just thought that maybe we could spend more time together, in the name of our new friendship. I can go if you think it’s a bad idea.” He looks uncomfortable at the possibility of you turning him down. You won’t. 

“No! It’s a good idea, Spencer. Do you want some tea? I have… English breakfast or chamomile. Pick your poison.” You offer, peering into your embarrassingly empty cabinets. Travelling so often for work means you don’t tend to keep a lot around the apartment. 

“Chamomile works, thank you.” You brew the tea in silence.

You almost don’t know what to say to him; it’s ironic considering the last time you spoke was perhaps the biggest fight you’ve been in since your teenage years. Looking at him, the way he clutches his mug of tea like a lifeline, it seems he feels the same way. 

“Wanna watch television? I don’t really know what else to do, y’know?” You ask him, begging him to say yes with your eyes. 

“I think taking what we have and turning it into friendship is meant to be difficult. I’ll confess I don’t really know what to do either. I’m not -- I’ve never been the most social of people.” He responds, perhaps more to the tea than to you. 

Picking up your own mug, you make your way to the couch, and Spencer sits next to you. Six inches apart. It feels like an ocean. You can make this work. The television comes to life and lights up the room. A movie marathon of Back to the Future is playing; you figure that’s something Spencer probably geeks out to, so you leave it on. You sit in silence for at least twenty minutes, not really watching the film. You’re more interested in watching how engaged with it Spencer is. 

“You know, the script for this film was rejected forty four times before getting green-lit. Even then they had troubles: studio executives wanted to rename it Spaceman from Pluto, which personally I think would have been a completely ridiculous name and most likely ruined the franchise completely.” He rambles, looking the most excited you’ve ever seen him. You smile and his excitement falters. “Sorry, I, you probably don’t find all this very interesting, do you?”

You move slightly closer to him. “Spencer, you can tell me all the facts you want about the film. Isn’t that the point of friendship? I provide the tea and you tell me things I wouldn’t possibly know about a film franchise I’ve never properly watched.”

He laughs and the tension is broken. 

A few nights later, he invites you for dinner. “You were right about me trying to keep our… situation separate from my life. It wasn't fair, isn’t fair on you. Come over to mine tonight. I’ll make dinner and we can talk.” You agree easily, relieved that he too wanted a sense of equality in your tentatively formed friendship. 

Of course, making dinner for you would be better if Spencer could actually cook. 

You arrive at seven, and he lets you in to his place looking frantic. You can smell burning and the kitchen is an unparalleled mess. Clearly, Spencer’s attempt to make you dinner was not going well. 

“Um, I’ve burnt dinner. But also undercooked it. You’d think I’d know how to make chicken and pasta considering the amount of PhDs I have, but perhaps not. Do you like Chinese?” He’s so flustered and panicked you dearly want to laugh. However, you don’t think Spencer sees the funny side of this situation yet.

“Yeah, Chinese food sounds like a good idea. You call, I’ll clean up whatever it is you did to your poor kitchen.” You get to work, binning the food and scrubbing the remnants out of the dishes. You’re not exactly sure how chicken and pasta could go so wrong, but you don’t think you want to ask him just yet.

The food arrives, and the two of you dig in. The conversation flows more this time, the humour of Reid’s attempt at cooking breaking any tensions that remained. Talking occurs, something new for the two of you, having previously existed only in loud silences. 

You learn that Spencer practically lives off take out and ready meals and instant ramen, and has done since his college days. You make a note to force him around to yours for dinner more often. He loves Chinese food but can’t use chopsticks to save his life. He prefers Star Trek to Doctor Who, because it’s more accurate. He writes endless letters, mostly to his mother, but some for himself, some he’ll never send. He’s sober now, completely. He hates orange juice and loves pistachio ice cream. He tells you anecdotes about his time at Cal-Tech and the philosophy degree he’s in the middle of. 

In turn, you tell him that your grandmother taught you how to cook as a teenager, but you can only cook Italian food well. You talk about your love of Thai food, and the lack of good take out places in the area. You tell him about how every time you have a hangover, you religiously watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer and only eat greasy food the entire day. You tell him about growing up in DC and the endless politics you were dragged into by your mother, and of your days at Georgetown. You tell him that sometimes you dream of going back to school, of leaving the BAU, of running away from your life and starting again somewhere nobody knows you or your name.

You slowly grow closer, and you can’t imagine your days or nights without Spencer Reid. 

The act of sleeping beside each other has changed too, you note. You spend more time at his place; his bed is more comfortable than yours. Perhaps it’s because it smells like him, like old books and leather, coffee grounds and vanilla. You borrow his clothes, never bringing your own anymore; Spencer doesn’t seem to mind, instead laying out clothes for you to take on his bed or bringing them to your apartment. He seems to like you in his clothes, he smiles every time you open the door in one of his old t-shirts. 

You tell yourself that this is what friendship is, although none of your other friendships are quite like this. Perhaps what you and Spencer have is just… unconventional.

Weeks into your new arrangement, of hanging out during the evenings you’re not sent out on a case, of eating dinner and watching television together, of laughing and talking and spilling all your secrets over mugs of tea, you have your first fight as friends. 

Well, more of a disagreement really. 

You love his Cal-Tech hoodie, the one he always wears around you. It looks so warm and would be so oversized on you, because it’s large on him, and you want it. Stealing men’s clothes from them has been your hobby since you became interested in guys. Your collection is reasonably large; every boyfriend, every hook up has knowingly or unknowingly contributed to your collection of sweatpants and hoodies and sweatshirts and t-shirts. You kept at least two of Spencer’s shirts, one sweatshirt, and a pair of sweatpants at your place permanently, but you had your eyes on that Cal-Tech hoodie of his. 

While he’s in the shower one evening, you take it off his pile of sweats and hoodies and put it on. It’s long enough to cover the shorts you’re wearing and just as warm and cosy as you’d expected it to be. You’d never tell him but you’re surprised at how many casual clothes he owns. At work, he lives in his shirts and sweater vests and is wholly committed to the young professor look he has going on. 

He comes out of the bathroom, in his sleepwear with wet hair, and a part of you thinks he looks kind of beautiful like that. You ignore it. 

“No. I know what you’re thinking, but no way. Any other hoodie is yours, but not that one.” He gives you a stern look, and you do the only thing that could ever work in this situation: you give him your best puppy dog eyes. 

“But Spencer, look how good I look in it! It’s the cutest one you own.” You give him a spin and strike a silly little pose, laughing. 

“Y/N, I’m not just going to give you my favourite hoodie. That’s not how this works.” He mutters, clenching his jaw. You wonder why he’s so annoyed; it’s just a hoodie.

“But don’t I look hot right now? Admit it.” You laugh and he rolls his eyes. 

“You always look hot. Give it back.” he mutters the first part and you think you’ve misheard, because there’s no way Spencer Reid thinks you’re hot. 

“Please?” You flutter your eyelashes. He clenches his jaw. 

“Fine. Joint custody. You can wear it here but it doesn’t leave the apartment, okay? If it leaves the apartment, I know it’s going to your weird second closet of random men’s clothes. I think that’s the weirdest hobby ever, by the way.” He concedes and you grin at him. You’d consider this one a win. 

\---------------------

At the office, things progress slowly. They have to, considering how bad they were before. It starts so slow people barely notice; you stop with the insults and ignoring each other. Then, you start making small talk; short conversations in the kitchenette while making coffee, in the elevator, on the plane, at the various precincts you end up in.

If the team seem confused at this new development, none of them say anything. Not at first. Probably because they don’t want to ruin things, break what seems like a tentative and fragile beginning of something. 

One afternoon, during a week of sorting through the endless pile of casefiles on your desk, your last pen breaks, ink flowing all over your desk, and over the covers over your files. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” You curse, quickly depositing the broken pen into a nearby trash can. “That was my last good pen.” 

“Here, take one of mine.” Reid gets up and hands it to you and you smile at him, almost forgetting that the two of you aren’t advertising your friendship just yet. 

“Thanks, Doctor, whatever would I do without you?” You sigh, settling back into your chair and trying to blot the ink off your desk. 

“Suffer. Or more likely, ask Emily for a pen.” He jokes, going back to his own work.

“No, sorry, what the fuck is going on here? Did I enter the Twilight Zone or some alternate universe where you two are actually friends?” Emily exclaims, having watched the interaction play out. You notice Morgan and Penelope, who’d stopped by to annoy him, both staring. Morgan looked confused, but Penelope was smiling. You realised this would probably fuel her secret theory that you and Spencer have something going on. 

“We’re friends, Emily. It was bound to happen sometime. Surely you’re glad we aren’t fighting in the office anymore, right?” Reid doesn’t look up from his work. 

Emily seems somewhat stunned but agrees. 

Reid starts to get more open in his acts of friendship around the team after that. He brings you coffee in the mornings, and you give him your best smiles. You lend him a copy of your favourite book on the jet. You start to actually work together when assigned as partners on a case. 

Rossi seems ambivalent to the change, disinterested as ever in the dramas you and Spencer always have going on unless directly affected. Hotch seems suspicious of how quickly the two of you seem to have ended your feud, but mentions to you that he’s ultimately glad he no longer has to pull the two of you into his office for lectures every week. Morgan begins to tease Spencer about puppy love. Emily also seems suspicious, but for different reasons than Hotch; she seems to think there’s chemistry between you and Reid and she wants to see where that goes. JJ seems genuinely happy that the conflict on the team has been resolved. Garcia is adamant that this is a sign that the two of you are going to fall in love. 

You wish you didn’t work with profilers; it would make the changing relationship between you and Spencer so much easier. 

\---------------

Finally, the team has a chance to go out again. Garcia and Morgan choose one of the nicer bars in town and you’re very excited for the opportunity to let your hair down and go crazy for once. Emily and JJ are planning to go too, but Hotch and Rossi bow out claiming they’re too old for such revelry. You’re unsure if Spencer plans to join, being sober at bars is never a good time, but he reassures you he’ll be there. You’re glad, it wouldn’t be the same without him. 

So on Friday night, you find yourself at Emily’s for pre-drinks and to get ready together. Looking in the mirror, you think that your outfit looks incredible, a short dress that flatters your figure immensely, paired with heels and dainty gold jewellery. 

You exit the bathroom and see Emily. She looks gorgeous as ever, and you feel almost self conscious standing next to her. The two of you gush over each other’s outfits, down a few glasses of wine, and make your way to the bar. 

Upon entering, you see that you two are the last to arrive. Morgan is out on the dance floor, picking up girls left right and centre. Garcia and JJ are carrying a worrying amount of shots and mixed drinks back to the table where Reid sits alone, looking somewhat uncomfortable. 

“What’s up girlies, who’s ready to get absolutely fucked up tonight!” You cry, already a little too tipsy from the half bottle of wine you’d consumed at Emily’s. 

Garcia and JJ laugh, and the group of you start playing drinking games, with the aim to be as drunk as possible in the shortest amount of time. You watch as Spencer sits there with his water, watching the madness with wide eyes. 

Emily wanders off to flirt with the bartender for more, hopefully free, drinks. JJ and Garcia make a break for the bathroom. You, feeling a little too drunk to get up at that moment, stay with Reid, scooting closer over to his seat in the booth.

“Hi.” You giggle, looking up at him. 

“Hello, Y/N.” He smiles back at you, and you think that Reid’s smile is better than a warm summer’s day. 

“Hi.” You repeat, unable to think of anything good or smart to say. 

“You’ve already said that. How are you feeling?” He asks, looking slightly concerned. 

“Like I could rule the world, Spence. It’s incredible. Do you want to dance with me?” You laugh and grab his hand. He shakes his head, but continues to hold on, stroking his thumb gently against the back of your hand. 

You rest your head on his shoulder, grateful for the reprieve in the festivities. His silence is so comfortable to you. You’re so close to him, centimetres away, but you barely notice.

“Spencer, why do you come to these things if you don’t drink? They can’t be any fun for you, drunk people suck ass, and it’s loud and we’re all obnoxious. I’m glad that you came, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t quite get it.” You wonder, and he mutters a reply that you can’t quite hear, clenching his stupid jaw again.

Louder, he says, “I’m here to make sure you don’t get into too much trouble, to make sure you -- and the rest of the team -- are all okay at the end of the night.”

You smile at him, and he returns it. Then, he shifts himself away from you slightly, letting go of your hand. You miss his warmth and wonder why he would do that.

“I got so many shots, Y/N. So many shots. Let’s see who can drink them the fastest!” Emily shouts over the music and you laugh, hugging her. You’re a clingy drunk. 

The two of you start drinking in quick succession, successfully getting five shots of tequila down in about a minute. You aren’t sure how you’re still standing, but that’s a problem for later.

Later, is when the two of you start dancing on tables. Your favourite song comes on, and so you pull Emily to the dance floor, and then up to some tables. The two of you clamber on and begin drunkenly dancing and singing very much out of tune.

Of course, alcohol doesn’t exactly help with your coordination. After you almost fall off the table for the second time, Morgan comes and lifts you down. You stumble as your feet touch the ground again, and you realise that walking without having to cling onto someone probably isn’t going to happen. He brings you back to the booth and you collapse next to Reid.

“You should probably take her home, Pretty Boy. That girl is wasted off her ass.” Morgan laughs and you join in. 

“I’m so wasted. Wasted, wasted, wasted.” You repeat, unable to stop giggling. Emily, who’s slightly more stable, joins in. 

Spencer puts his arm around you and helps you stand. He smells so good, you think and you really hope you don’t say something stupid out loud. 

The two of you exit the bar, you holding on to Spencer for dear life, and he hails a cab. Once inside you continue to cling to him, even though it’s technically not necessary anymore. Your head is on his shoulder and your hand in his and you’re oh so comfortable. You worry that he finds you obnoxious for being so drunk and you look up at his face. His jaw is clenched. Always clenched. You slur your words asking if he’s mad at you and he denies it with such a genuine look on his face you have no choice other than to believe him.

You make it to the building in one piece, glad that you didn’t vomit in the cab. Wrapping your arm around Spencer’s waist, you stumble into the elevator. You don’t let go the entire time. 

“Hey, Pretty Boy, your apartment or mine?” you joke and he looks almost confused by your use of Morgan’s nickname. You carry on speaking. “You know, that nickname suits you. You really are one of the prettiest guys I’ve ever met, you know that?” 

He blushes and mumbles something you don’t quite hear. He does that a lot, you think. You get off the elevator on his floor and he fumbles his keys trying to open the door.

“Your place, interesting. So are you going to fuck me up against the walls like you promised last year, or was that just a joke?” You ask before you even realise what you’re saying. Fuck. 

“I… How about we just get you into bed okay?” He blushes, but under his breath adds, “If i was going to fuck you, I’d do it when you’d actually remember it.” 

“Okay, Pretty Boy, if you say so.” You wink and stumble into the bedroom, taking your shoes off as you go. 

Then you realise you have a problem. There’s no way you were getting out of this dress without assistance. You’ll have to ask Spencer.

“Pretty Boy.” You call. 

“Stop calling me that. What do you need?” He scowls, walking into the room. 

“Help?” You say, gesturing to your dress. You turn around and feel Spencer approach behind you. You feel his breath on the back of your neck. You bet that if you turned around, you’d see him clenching his jaw once again. 

Slowly, you feel his warm hands on your back, as he starts to unzip your dress and you gratefully step out of it. 

“Hey! Stop that! No undressing in front of me. Bathroom, now!” He shrieks, pushing you into the bathroom and forcing a pile of clothes into your hands. You dress slowly and lean against the door frame. 

“Spence? I don’t feel too hot.” You call, and he comes into the bathroom cautiously holding a glass of water. 

“You’ll be okay. Drink this,” He passes you the glass and you smile weakly. “Do you want me to brush out your hair before you sleep?” 

You nod sleepily, drinking the water and leaning back against him as he sits behind you on the bathroom floor. 

“You know, you’re my favourite person. I think you’re so great, did you know that? You’re so smart and so pretty and you always make me smile and I think that if everyone knew you like I did, they’d love you. And you’re pretty. Did I mention that?” You ramble, as he carefully detangles your hair. He doesn’t say anything in return, but you’re beyond caring. 

Finished with your hair, he helps you off the floor. Feeling bold, you pull him into a tight hug. He waits a moment before reciprocating, as if he wasn’t used to being hugged like this. He probably wasn’t. You look up at him and his face that you think is oh so beautiful, and place a gentle kiss on the left side of his jaw. 

“Thank you for looking after me.” you whisper, and he nods, unable to break eye contact.  
Suddenly, the tiredness hits you again and you pull him towards the bedroom before flopping into bed. He carefully gets in beside you. You curl up against him, closer than you usually would. He holds you just a little tighter. Looking up at him, you’re so glad that it’s him you started this unconventional friendship with. 

“You know, I think you’re the only person I’ve let get this close to me that hasn’t left. People always leave, you know? It’s why I hate getting close to anyone. Do you promise to never ever leave me, Spencer Reid?” You whisper to him, before closing your eyes.

You’re pretty sure you hear him say never, before you pass out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there was originally more to this chapter but i had to split it up because it was getting wayyyyy too long. anyways thank u for the love as always <3


	14. compounds and cults

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> y/n is hungover; reid and y/n go to a religious compound to conduct an interview; things go south real fast

You wake up before the sun, fully feeling the effects of the night before. You aren’t sure how exactly you got home -- no, you’re in Spencer’s bed -- but you’re pretty sure whatever you did on the way was incredibly embarrassing. Groaning, you become acutely aware of the situation you’ve found yourself in. Normally, the way you sleep together, it’s incredibly platonic. This is… different. You’re holding on to him, rather tightly, and his arm is around your waist. Your legs are tangled together. Inwardly you sigh at the situation you seem to have caused.

You’re very glad he still seems to be asleep. 

Abruptly, the copious amount of alcohol you’d consumed threatens to come back up. Pushing yourself out of Spencer’s arms -- waking him up in the process -- you stumble to the toilet. He follows sleepily behind you, kneeling next to you and holding your hair back. No matter what, it seems, he’s always looking after you. 

“Good morning,” You croak out, “Sorry for waking you.” 

He smiles softly at you, brushing a stray hair out of your face. “It’s okay. How are you feeling?”

“Embarrassed… I don’t remember anything after Morgan pulled me off that table. I didn’t say anything stupid did I? Please just forget everything after that point. I don’t even want to know how awful I was.” You groan, knowing that after a few drinks you always end up getting into some kind of trouble. 

“You didn’t say anything bad, I promise. I’d tell you if you did. But we can just forget all about it if it makes you feel better?” He offers and you nod vigorously, before groaning at how it aggravated your headache. 

“You promise? I know I can be annoying when I’m drunk and I say too much and I’m too clingy and I get cranky sometimes, and I really don’t want to have ruined anything or have upset you.” You’re almost begging him, tears shining in your eyes. You feel so insecure and vulnerable in this moment, so desperate to have not damaged your friendship with him without even realising it. 

“Y/N, you could never ruin how-- you could never ruin our friendship with a few drunken words, okay? I swear you didn’t say anything horrible, not even a little bit. Everything’s fine, alright?” He looks at you with such an earnest expression that you have to believe what he says is true. 

“Thank you, Spencer.” You smile weakly, and he smiles softly back at you.

“Come on, let’s get off the bathroom floor. Do you want to sleep for a bit longer? Or are you up now? I’ll confess to not really being the expert on hangovers.” He pulls you up and the two of you exit his bathroom.

You look at the time; it’s six o’clock, not as early as you’d normally wake the night after drinking. “C’mon, we’re going to my place. I’ll teach you my hangover routine.” 

The routine is simple. Lots of coffee and lots of reruns, always black and always Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Both of you sit tiredly on the couch, his feet up on your coffee table, your head on his shoulder, his arm slung around you, your heart beating far too fast for your liking. 

A line was crossed last night, you think. The two of you were getting far too comfortable with physical intimacy for just being friends. Sure, some would argue that the act of sharing a bed often was already crossing several lines, but it always felt platonic to you. The way you woke up this morning? Decidedly not. You hadn’t experienced that level of intimacy since your last boyfriend left you, three years ago. It scares you how comfortable you are with Spencer Reid. 

And he seems to be comfortable with you too. You avidly recall that he tends to have an aversion to touch. No handshakes, because they spread more germs than kissing. You don’t think you’ve ever witnessed him hug someone, other than the time he hugged Hotch after being tortured by Hankel. And yet, so often he lets you into his bed without argument. He doesn’t distance himself from you. He’ll hold onto your hand and sling his arm around your shoulder, regularly in private.

You wonder what makes you different. 

\----------------

It’s a routine operation. Religious cult with suspected child abuse. Hotch sends you and Reid undercover with CPS, to interview the children and determine what’s really happening.

“Tell us about the 911 call.” Reid asks the CPS officer. 

“Well, we believe the ‘he’ that was referred to is the leader, Benjamin Cyrus.”

“Cyrus… No criminal record, barely any record at all actually, do you know anything else about him?” Reid scans through the casefile in front of him. 

“It’s rumoured he’s practising polygamy and forced marriages. We think the caller is Jessica Evanson, she’s the only one who fits the age mentioned, but we managed to negotiate interviews with all the children.” Nancy informs you both and you nod, thinking about the best way to navigate this difficult situation. 

“You should probably introduce us as child victim interview experts rather than FBI agents, given their view on outsiders; if they realise we’re FBI they most likely won’t let us in the door.” You instruct as Nancy pulls up to the compound. 

Once in the compound, you see a man leaning casually against the entrance to the building, reading what looks to be a bible. He introduces himself as Benjamin Cyrus.

“Hi, I’m Nancy Lunde, we spoke on the phone regarding the allegations.” Nancy introduces.

“Savages they call us, because our manners differ from theirs.” Cyrus begins to say as if he’s preaching. Reid informs Nancy that he’s quoting Benjamin Franklin. 

“This is Y/N Y/L/N and Spencer Reid, our child victim interview experts.” She gestures towards the two of you and you smile at Cyrus. You have a bad feeling about this place.

“How far must we have strayed from God’s word for there be the need for such a job as child victim interview experts?” Cyrus sighs and after a short exchange he gestures for you and Nancy to enter the building. 

Spencer stays behind to talk to Cyrus, in the hopes of building some sort of rapport. You don’t envy him that job; something about the man creeps you out. 

Inside, you begin to interview the children, starting with Jessica Evanson. She seems hostile to your questioning, seeming to think you’re targeting them for their religious way of life. 

“We’re not here because of religion or to judge your life style. We’re here because we received a phone call alleging that an adult within the church was having inappropriate relations with younger women. That’s all.” You explain, hoping to defuse the situation. It doesn’t work. Jessica is immediately defensive.

“You’re talking about Cyrus.” She accuses, and you ask her why she would say that. “Is it inappropriate for a husband to share a bed with his wife?”

“You’re married to Cyrus?” You ask slowly, realising that the allegations were true. 

“Yes, Cyrus is my husband and a prophet. It’s an honor to bear his children.” She insists.

Reid reminds Jessica that she is only fifteen, a child, and that parental consent is required for such a marriage. You realise that argument is futile, her mother gave consent. Your hands are tied. 

Suddenly, armed men burst into the room pointing very large guns at you and Reid, demanding for you to get up. The two of you share a glance and very slowly stand, trying to figure out what has gone so terribly wrong. 

A news reporter called the compound about a raid. Shit. You stand there looking bewildered, why would there be a raid on the compound today of all days? Luck is in your favour; Cyrus determines that the two of you knew nothing of it. You, along with the children in the school, are quickly escorted down a tunnel. Gunfire starts; nothing good will come of this. This interview has quickly descended into a very dangerous situation.

Cyrus leads you into a bunker, filled with supplies, filled with guns. Lots of guns. Far too many guns. Neither you or Reid know where they came from.

“Stay calm, everyone remain calm, there is nothing to fear here.” Cyrus placates his followers, before heading out to try and take control of the situation.

You see that Nancy is not handling this well. She’s panicking, visibly. “It’s state police, I’m an officer of the state.”

“There’s nothing we can do right now, Nancy.” You give her a look, begging her to stay calm. 

She doesn’t listen, heading towards the exit. You try to stop her, but armed men obstruct your path. Spencer pulls you back to your spot in the crowd, squeezing your hand quickly before dropping it. There’s no ceasefire. Cyrus returns. Nancy is dead. 

“You can’t shoot it out with the cops, there’s children here!” You need this to stop, this situation is insane. Cyrus simply tells you he didn’t start this and begins instructing his men in his plan to take on the police. The shooting stops. The police are retreating, you hear. 

“Not for long.” Spencer mutters, and your heart sinks.

The men come back; multiple casualties within the compound are being reported. Jessica comes to Cyrus with a child in her arms; the child’s parents are dead. You watch on as Cyrus comforts them and makes plans for the standoff; their plan, refusing to go down without a fight, guarantees more losses. You selfishly hope that you and Spencer won’t be one of them.

The wait feels endless. Waiting for something to happen, waiting for news, waiting for anything. You’re aware that the team has to know you’re trapped inside at this point, have to be working on a way to get you out. You trust your team, but you cant help feeling terrified that you’ll never leave the compound.

Later, you’re taken to the chapel. You and Reid sit in silence. There is so much silence. It’s deafening. There’s a knock at the door. Rossi enters, holding a box of supplies. You watch as he interacts with Cyrus, building up a rapport. Cyrus makes sure to let him know you’re here. 

“I’d hoped you’d let me take the children out of here.” Rossi confesses, but Cyrus shakes his head. 

“Nah, they’re our protection.” he says. “I remember Waco.” You tense thinking of how badly this could go. There are so many possibilities and none of them are good. The two men talk some more, and shake hands. Rossi leaves.

Cyrus begins to preach to his followers, his men move you and Spencer to the back of the chapel. The congregation are given wine, while the two of you watch on, analysing the situation. 

“Look at Jessica’s body language,” You gesture subtly towards her. 

“There’s no way she made that 911 call -- she literally worships him.” Spencer responds. Jessica’s mother moves towards her daughter, and things begin to fall into place. 

“Look at the way she’s come between her daughter and Cyrus.” You murmur to him. 

Clearly, Jessica’s mother is less enamored with the church than one would originally think.

Everybody drinks. You’re reminded of Jonestown, and you wonder if that’s what’s happening here. It doesn’t make sense to you. Cyrus tells his followers they’ve drank the poison, and you watch as a mixed reaction settles over the crowd. Some seem calm with the choice they’ve made, others seem scared. You look at Spencer, panic in your eyes. 

“What do we do?” you ask of him, feeling entirely helpless.

“Nothing.” He murmurs back. 

“We can’t just do nothing, these people have just taken poison!” You hiss back, horrified. 

“He just told them they did. I think he’s bluffing; after he mentioned the poison, he waited to watch their reactions. Then he nodded to Cole, who started writing -- I think they’re scanning the audience and looking for reactions. It’s a loyalty list.” Reid tries to keep his voice down as you watch Cyrus and Cole mutter to each other. 

“So he knows who will follow him to the end.” You sigh, relieved that no one is actually poisoned but disheartened at how many people seemed ready to die for the cause.

“Be still: there was no poison.” Cyrus reveals. The tension in the room breaks. “Instead, a test of faith. Watch each other for signs of weakness; you are your brother’s keeper.”

It’s been the longest two days of your life. You miss your bed and you miss Reid’s bed. You miss not having to worry about being shot down at any given moment. 

You and Spencer are sent to the bunker again, to sit in silence. Suddenly, Cyrus bursts in.

“Which one of you is it?” He demands, pulling out his gun “Which one of you is the FBI agent?”

Shit. That’s not good. 

“Why do you think one of us is an FBI agent?” Spencer asks him, and Cyrus seems to get even angrier. This is bad, really bad.

He points the gun at Reid’s head and your heart stops. They’re talking, but you don’t hear a word. He can’t shoot Reid, you won’t let him shoot Reid. 

“Me. It’s me.” The words are out of your mouth before you can truly think through the repercussions of your confession. Spencer looks at you, horrified, shocked at your words. 

If you have to die here, you’d rather die protecting Spencer. 

Cyrus grabs you violently by the hair and begins to drag you out of the room. You look Spencer in the eyes, imploring him to go with your plan. Not that you really had a plan, but you beg that he doesn’t fuck it up by implicating himself. 

You’re pulled into another room; Cyrus starts yelling and beating you. You don’t listen to what he says: you’re more focused on the pain in your ribs, your face, your chest. You realise that the team can probably hear your cries of pain; you can’t have them storming the compound unnecessarily. That would ruin everything. He smashes your face into a mirror and you cry out again, louder. He recites biblical verses to you, before slamming you across the room. You don’t fight back.

“I can take it,” you choke out, pain radiating through your entire body. “I can take it.” 

Cyrus doesn’t seem to like that: he hits harder. You realise your words are antagonising him, but you have to let the team know. They need to know that you’re fine, that they should carry on as planned, that they shouldn’t risk everything for you.

He finishes beating you, and you lie there. You’ve never felt so much pain in your life. You wonder if this is how Spencer felt when Hankel tortured him. 

You’re okay with the pain, because it means that Spencer is safe. That’s what friendship is, right?

They tie you up and leave you in a bedroom. Jessica’s mother comes in to clean your wounds, chastising you, “You should’ve told Cyrus who you were, he’s a prophet. He predicted this, that Satan’s armies would lay siege to us, you don’t know how dangerous it is to lie to him.”

“There’s a name for that kind of prophecy: self-fulfilling” You murmur. To speak hurt, but you had to find out. “I know it would take a very brave woman to defy him, knowing the consequences, and that woman would have a reason, a damn good reason to do it.”

She looks away from you, and you know. It was her, not her daughter, who called you here. 

You don’t know how long you were in that bed before they come and get you. They bring you to the chapel once again, and you see Spencer. He’s okay. He’s okay. It’s all worth it, all the pain. He cautiously makes his way over to you, looking at you with wide eyes. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” You’re lying, but he doesn’t need to know that. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” His voice cracks as he whispers to you. You shake your head at him, you have to change the subject. 

“Look who he’s releasing.” you point out and Spencer scans the room. 

“The ones who failed the loyalty test.” He mutters and then turns to you more urgently. “I’ll get word to the team. Wait for a sign from outside to indicate what time the raid will come.” 

Nodding at him, he walks away, over to Cyrus. You’re taken away again, back to your room. 

You don’t know how much time passes, but you’re impatient. You hate being out of the loop, and the stakes are too high for you to have so little information. It grows dark, and you see food being delivered. The final meal. You shift yourself so that you can move the blinds with your foot, and hope that your team will hear you.

“If you can hear me, I know you’re coming. I can try and get the women and children down to the tunnel, but I need to know when you’re coming.” You repeat yourself over and over, hoping that someone, anyone, outside picks up on your message. 

Finally, a laserbeam appears on the wall. They heard you. You breathe a sigh of relief. They plan to come at three in the morning. You breathe deep, knowing that you only have a short time before things come to ahead. Quickly, you tell them where Reid is, and remind them there are children in the building. You pause, someone is coming. Jessica’s mother appears. You need to get her to listen to you. 

“Cyrus is planning a mass suicide, tonight. You made that 911 call, didn’t you?” You say sympathetically, hoping she’ll open up to you. 

“This is all my fault, none of this would’ve happened if I hadn't made the call.” She’s upset, you can tell. 

You reassure her it wasn’t her fault, that she was just protecting her daughter, and she told you of the other girls that Cyrus would marry and discard. She tells you that she wanted to take her daughter and run once Cyrus showed interest. 

Here was your chance. “You wanted us to save her? Here’s your chance. The FBI is coming at three, and I need you to gather all the children, and the women, in the basement. Before three. I know you’ll do the right thing.” You tell her, almost praying that she listens to you, that she does as you say. She leaves, and you go back to waiting. 

You wait. You wait some more. You begin to lose hope.

Suddenly, the door opens and Jessica’s mother is back. She starts untying you as you ask what’s happened.

“You were right, they’re setting the place to blow up. I told Jessie he wanted her to gather the women and children.” 

Freed at last, you stretch, and ask about Spencer. He’s in the chapel with Cyrus, because of course he would be. You want to go get him, but you’ve only got fifteen minutes until the FBI bursts in. You have to hurry. You gather with the women and children, leading them through hallways lined with gasoline. The whole place was ready to go up like a light. Running into the basement, you see Morgan and Rossi waiting for you. You could start crying, you’re so relieved to see them. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” Morgan asks urgently, gesturing to the other women to exit the basement quickly.” 

“They’ve wired explosives,” Your breathing is shallow and you’re stumbling all over the place. “Reid is in the chapel with Cyrus.”

Morgan goes to move you out but you’re insistent. “No, we need to get Reid, I can’t, I can’t go without him!” You’re almost crying. 

Morgan promises to retrieve Spencer. Jessica realises what’s happening. She runs back into the building and you attempt to go after her, only to be held back by Rossi. You stumble out of the basement with Jessica’s mother, who’s crying. Outside, you fall into Emily’s arms. She starts to move the two of you away from the compound. 

“Y/N, I’m so happy they got you out.” You hug her tightly. 

“Where’s Reid and the rest of them? Are they out yet?” You’re desperately hoping they are, but you can see in her face that they’ve had no word yet. 

The building blows up, and you almost fall to your knees. As you move around to the front of the church, you call out to Reid and Morgan, hoping, praying that they got out. You need them to have gotten out. 

Suddenly, movement. They’re okay. They’re moving and they're not dead and they're okay. You could cry, you almost do cry. You feel like a weight has been lifted, like you can breathe. 

Your best friend isn’t dead. He’s okay. Looking worse for wear, as are you, but he’s going to be fine. 

You slowly limp up to Spencer, tears in your eyes. You hug him, so tightly, and you don’t think you ever want to let go. You never want to go though what happened these past few days again. 

\-------------

Spencer doesn’t leave your side. Not as you pack up in Colorado, not as you take the jet home. You don’t quite know what to say to him; the guilt he feels over what happened at the compound is written clear on his face. 

You need him to know its not his fault. 

He drives you home, you hurt too badly to drive, and he doesn’t say a word. In that moment you are reminded that Spencer is the type to internalise his feelings, and probably won’t say anything to you about the incident unless you bring it up. 

He walks you up to your apartment and goes to leave. You don’t want him to go. 

“Spencer, stay with me?” You ask quietly. He looks at you sadly, and follows you into your place. You lead him to the couch and force him to sit down with you. He looks so guilty and you can’t stand it. 

“Spencer, what Cyrus did to me wasn’t your fault, do you hear me? It was my decision to tell him I was the FBI agent, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Stop feeling guilty for something you had no control over.” You implore. 

He doesn’t respond, he just looks at you with such an expression of hurt that your heart feels like it’s breaking. 

“Spencer, please. Tell me you know it’s not your fault. I don’t blame you, for anything.” He still stays quiet, still looking at the bruises on your face. “Please answer me, I need you to answer me.” 

He takes your hand and looks at you with the most heart breaking expression on his face. “I thought I was going to lose you, that I’d never see you again. I thought he was going to take you away from me. Once he pulled you out of that room, I could hear him beating you and I thought he might kill you. I should’ve done something, should’ve acted sooner. Instead, you got hurt.” 

He’s almost crying, you can tell. You move to hug him, and he holds on to you tightly. It feels like coming home. You never want to be separated from him like that again.

Sometimes, you wonder what it would be like to kiss him. 

That night, he sleeps at yours. He seems hesitant to let you out of his sight. You realise that he needs to be close to you, needs to look after you and you let him. You let him tend to your bruises and reapply bandaids to your cuts. 

When you get into bed, he holds you. You like it more than you’d care to admit to yourself. It’s as if he’s terrified that if he lets go, you’d be gone forever. 

“Are you okay?” You look up at him through your eyelashes. He looks scared, you think. 

“I’m just-- Everyone always ends up leaving me, My dad, my mom, Gideon. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you too.” You can tell that confession took a lot out of him. 

You move closer into his side. “I’m going nowhere, Spencer Reid. I promise you that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was longer than i expected. also; in my head, reid is not going to be in the next chapter. maybe he will be. it will be a surprise to all of us <3


	15. coffee and conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> y/n has four conversations about spencer reid and lies through all of them, naturally

You’re on a coffee run with JJ, during a particularly difficult case. The coffee at the station sucks ass, worse than usual precinct coffee, and so the two of you head to a coffee shop a few minutes away to finally get some decent drinks. You’re not as close to JJ as you are Emily or Penelope; you think it’s because she is closer to Spencer, and the feud the two of you had was so large and so public she felt like she had to choose a side. You can’t hold anything against her, just because the two of you aren’t all that close, doesn’t mean you don’t have some sort of friendship. 

The two of you chat aimlessly about the case, and about that cute detective from New Orleans she’s definitely not seeing. You’re surprised when she suddenly brings up Reid. 

“Don’t you think Spence has been happier recently? I know you two are all friendly now instead of fighting all the time, but doesn’t he seem different to you?”

Yes. He does, because you’re finally communicating with him, because you’re friendship has brightened both of your moods, because he’s finally expressing his emotions for once in his life. 

“No, but to be fair I wasn’t exactly paying attention to his emotional state before we stopped fighting.” You admit, feeling slightly bad about lying to JJ. Only slightly though. 

“Do you think maybe he’s seeing someone? He hasn’t mentioned anything to me, but I don’t know. Something about him seems different. I know I’m not a profiler or anything but I can tell when there’s a shift in the lives of my friends, y’know?” 

You nod, unsure of what to say. It’s not like you can tell her that actually Reid’s probably happier because you’re kind of sleeping together in a somewhat platonic way and you’re hanging out way more than anyone would suspect. What was going on between you and Spencer, the details of your friendship, was private. 

“I dunno, JJ. Maybe he is seeing someone and just wants to keep it quiet. You said it’s a recent change, right? If he is seeing someone then he probably doesn’t want to say anything while it’s early days. Especially to us. The team can be kind of intense. Also you know Penelope would dig up that girl’s entire life story before we could blink. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to introduce a new boyfriend to you guys straight away either.” You reason, coming up with the theory on the spot. 

“Any men on the horizon for you, Y/N? Any secret boyfriend you’re hiding away?” JJ laughs, and you laugh with her. 

As if you have time for a relationship outside of work and your thing with Spencer. Besides, if you did start seeing someone they probably would disapprove of you sleeping with Spencer most nights. And that wasn’t something you were about to give up freely.

A part of you wonders if it’s normal to be so attached to Spencer Reid. A part of you feels almost possessive over him, that any potential girlfriend would be stepping on your territory. You probably shouldn’t feel so possessive over a friend, right? 

Maybe you should just stop thinking about it and get your coffee.

\---------------

A while later you’re in the car with Morgan, heading to a new crime scene. You like being partnered with Morgan, the banter is always easy and even in the darkest of moments he can cheer you up with a joke. He’s like the big brother you never had. 

“So, Y/N, I’ve been meaning to ask you: what happened with you and Pretty Boy when he took you home a few weeks ago. Y’know, that night at the bar when you were so drunk you almost fell off the table you were dancing on? That shit was hilarious, by the way.” He questions, and you groan internally.

“Morgan, don’t remind me of that night. I don’t even remember getting in the cab home, let alone what happened once we got to Reid’s apartment.” Shit. You’ve put your foot in it. How could you let slip that you stayed at Reid’s place, instead of him taking you back to yours. 

You try to stay calm, but you know there’s no way Morgan’s letting you get off lightly. 

“Reid’s apartment? Pretty Boy’s? You stayed at Reid’s and neither of you told me? I can’t believe you guys.” He exclaims, a shocked look on his face. You groan inwardly. 

“Morgan. It’s not like it was a big deal or anything. We live in the same building, remember? I literally live directly above him. He thought I was going to like, choke on vomit in my sleep or whatever, so he made me stay at his so i didn’t die during the night. He’s so dramatic.” You try and laugh, but you definitely sound nervous. 

Reid is going to be so mad at you for telling Morgan any of this. You’ve learnt over the past year that he’s an incredibly private person. Sure, he shares things with you, but most of the time he just internalises his feelings. You can almost imagine his face when you tell him that Morgan knows you’ve spent the night at his at least once, his jaw doing that annoying clenching thing he always does when you get on his nerves. 

“Girl, I need to know more details than just that. You know Baby Girl is going to kill me when I tell her this if I don’t have more details.” He chuckles and your eyes widen. 

Fuck. Of course he’s going to tell Penelope. Why wouldn’t he? You know they gossip like old women, and that they used to constantly talk about the dramas you and Reid would have in the office. 

“Morgan. I literally do not remember that night. I probably did something embarrassing because he didn’t really say much about it, but I know he gave me some clothes to change into and he let me sleep in his bed. Alone, before you get any ideas.” You glare at him. He doesn’t seem to care. 

“Pretty Boy let you sleep in his bed? Oh, this is gold. Are you sure he wasn’t in the bed with you?” 

“Oh my God, of course not! I think I’d remember waking up next to him, right?” You almost yell, hitting Morgan on the arm. 

“Hey, trying to drive here! I just think it’s very sweet that Reid let you stay at his place and sleep in his bed, alright? I don’t think he’d do that for most people.” He gives you a scrutinising look, and you feel slightly uncomfortable, as if you’re about to be caught out. 

“Well, Reid and I are friends now,” Very close friends. “Of course he would make sure I’m alright if I’m blacked out.” You reason, and Morgan nods thoughtfully.

You hope that’s the end of this conversation. It’s strange that you’ve had two conversations about Reid today, and that you’ve had to lie through both of them. 

Later, on the car ride back to the station, Morgan turns to you. “What about the morning after?”

“Sorry?” You try and play clueless, but he doesn’t buy it. 

“Uh uh, don’t try that with me. You and Reid. What happened after you blacked out and slept at his place?” 

You sigh. “I woke him up at six in the morning by vomiting in his toilet. He came in to check I was alright. Then he made me coffee and I left for my own apartment, are you happy?” 

Of course, you don’t mention that he came to your apartment with you, or that you spent the day lying on the couch together. Morgan and Penelope don’t need to know that slight detail. 

“You know, I think you and Reid would make a cute couple. If you both pulled your heads out of your asses and actually realised you liked each other.” Morgan states matter of factly, and you breath in sharply. 

“Don’t joke about things like that, Morgan. The two of us are just friends and that is all we’ll ever be, okay.” 

He nods, but you don’t think he believes you. 

\----------------------------

After a tough case, Emily shows up at your door with two bottles of wine and take out. Without giving you any notice. You’re very glad that you happened to be at home and that Spencer just so happened to not be in your apartment at that time. 

You realise that he could show up at any moment. Shit. That wouldn’t be good for your repeated statements that the two of you are friends and friends only. While Emily is grabbing glasses from your cabinets, you send him a text telling him not to come over and hope that for once in his life he checks his phone. 

The two of you dig into the food she brought, and watch some sappy romance movie while proceeding to get drunk together. Sometimes, that was the only way to get over the atrocities you saw on a regular basis. 

“So,” She says once you’re half a bottle in, “Who are you fucking?”

You choke on your drink; Emily was nothing if not direct. The sad fact was, you really weren’t fucking anyone. You hadn’t had sex in over a year, not since you and Spencer started spending your nights together. 

“Oh my God, give me some notice before you start interrogating me, won’t you? I’m not having sex with anyone, I haven’t in like a year.” You admit and she looks at you in disbelief. 

“No way am I believing that one, Y/N. You’ve been way happier these past few months, don’t deny it,” She accuses and you sigh. You have been happier recently, she’s not wrong. “I’m like ninety per cent sure a guy is behind your change in mood: what else would it be?” 

Spencer. That would be Spencer who’s so drastically improved your mood. And the sleep you’re finally getting now that you’re sharing a bed. 

“I promise I’m just doing better now that things are calmer at work, okay? I’m not hiding anything from you.” You lie and you actually feel bad about it. But what else can you do?

She glares at you. “You are hiding something, I know it. I’m going to figure it out, you know. Might as well just tell me.” 

“If I had something to tell you I would; I know better than to lie to the great Emily Prentiss.” You’re lying right now. “Anyways! What about you? I know you’re getting some. Tell me everything so i can live vicariously though you.” You’re desperately trying to change the subject. 

“Okay, so maybe I have a friends with benefits thingy going on. It’s pretty new though, so I don’t know if it’s going to last. The sex is great though.” She admits, smiling slightly.

“The great Emily Prentiss, smiling over a guy? Seeing him more than once? This has to be a miracle!” You laugh and she rolls her eyes at you. “But seriously, I’m happy that you’re happy.” 

She thanks you and you think that the conversation will finally get off the topic of who you are or aren’t sleeping with. You’re so tired of not telling the truth about you and Spencer, but you know you can’t. Everyone would read into it way too much, when really, honestly, the two of you were just friends. 

“Y/N? If you’re not sleeping with anyone, why is there a man’s t-shirt on your chair.” You look behind you and sure enough, one of the t-shirts you’ve stolen from Spencer is draped over you’re chair. It’s a Cal-Tech t-shirt, and you cringe. That’s definitely a strong link to Spencer, and you’re sure Emily will put it together. 

“It’s one of mine. You know I’ve told you my hobby of stealing clothes from men I’ve slept with.” You try and explain, but you don’t think she’s buying it. 

“Hmm. You know who went to Cal-Tech? Spencer Reid. Are you fucking him? It would make sense. The two of you have excellent chemistry.” She accuses and you breathe in sharply; of course she’d make the connection.

“Definitely not, Em. I got it from a guy like a year or so ago, a one night stand.” You try and explain yourself but Emily is like a dog with a bone and she’s not letting you off easily. 

“How was the sex?” She questions, “Was it good, memorable?”

You think of having sex with Spencer. You think of that time two years ago he told you he’d fuck you up against his wall. You blush. Stop thinking of sex with Reid.

“You’re blushing! Why are you blushing? What happened?” She fires at you rapidly. 

“Nothing I swear. I just remembered that the guy caught me stealing his shirt, okay? It was embarrassing!” No it wasn’t. Reid always lets you steal his clothes without comment. He watches you do it, most times. 

Emily still seems suspicious but she lets it go. Thank God. Reid doesn’t show up; you don’t know if he got your text, but he doesn’t show up.

\------------------

Emily leaves in the early hours of the morning. You’re glad; hopefully Reid is still awake and will let you come over. You make your way down to his apartment -- wearing the Cal-Tech shirt that caused you so much grief earlier and knock loudly on his door. He opens it, but he doesn’t look happy.

“What do you want?” He snaps and you’re confused.

“Spence, what’s up? Are you good?” He’s blocking the door; you don’t understand why he won’t just let you in. You slip under his arm and make your way to his couch. You’re a little drunk and you want to sit down so badly.

“Y/N. Get up.” He looks mad, why is he mad. 

And then you clock it. The text. You’d sent a quick ‘don’t come over tonight,’ and from the looks of it he’d obviously read it wrong. 

“Oh my God, are you mad about the text I sent?” He clenches his jaw and you take that as confirmation. “Spencer, Emily showed up at my door, totally unexpected. I figured you wouldn’t want to have to explain to her why you were at my door at like ten o’clock at night, right?” 

He looks unconvinced. You get up from the couch and walk over to him, putting your hand on his arm. Up close, you realise that he’s not mad at you; he’s upset. 

“Spence,” You whisper, moving your hand up to touch his face. “You’re always welcome at my place alright? I’ll even get you a key to prove it. You can have my spare. I didn’t think through my wording and I’m sorry. I just… Emily doesn’t need to know about us sleeping together, right?” 

“No, she doesn’t,” He says softly. “Are you staying?” 

“Of course I am, silly. Let’s get some sleep -- I’m exhausted.” You grab his hand and pull him towards the bedroom. You’re so tactile after a few drinks. 

You wonder when you started to hate fighting with Spencer. 

\-------------------

You’re bored of paperwork, so you pick up coffee and head to Penelope’s den. 

“Hey babes, are you busy? I come bearing coffee.” You walk in and she beams at you. 

“Hello, my love! I’m so happy to see you. And coffee. Always happy for coffee.” She accepts the mug gratefully. “Also: we have things to discuss! What’s all this about you and Reid? Derek told me you slept at his place a few weeks ago.” 

Of course he did. You’re not exactly sure what she wants you to say: you practically gave Morgan all the details anyways.

“Pen, nothing happened between us that I haven’t already told to Morgan. Reid and I are friends, just friends, and that is all we will ever be” You remind her and she rolls her eyes. 

“Psh, you and Reid don’t act like friends. There’s way too much chemistry between the two of you! Everyone knows it, even Hotch and Rossi!” She declares. 

You don’t know what she’s talking about. Sure, sometimes you think about Reid in a way that’s decidedly not platonic, but everyone has thoughts like that about their attractive friends, right? You're not oblivious to his good looks. It's totally normal to feel that way sometimes, especially when they’re as close as you and Reid are. 

“Anyways, you act like two people in love who just haven’t figured it out yet, and I’m bored of waiting. Just get together already!” She tells you impatiently. 

You laugh. “Penelope, it’s just not happening. Give it up already!”

“Okay, so tell me this: do you guys hang out, outside of the team gatherings? She stares you down and you decide to tell a half truth for once. You’re sick of lying.

“Sometimes, but before you say anything: we live in the same building. It makes sense that we hang out sometimes. Don’t you hang out with Morgan, just the two of you?” 

Penelope looks victorious, “I knew it! I knew you did! Also don’t try and change the subject: it’s different with me and Morgan and you know it.”

“Look, it’s just the occasional dinner, sometimes we watch movies if something good is on the television. It’s not a big deal. I do the same with you and Emily all the time!” You’re lying. You and Reid practically live together, splitting your time between two apartments. 

“It is different though. I am one hundred per cent sure you’re falling for Reid, you just haven’t realised it yet. You guys can’t just be friends, not with the amount of chemistry you have. It’s like… Oh! I was watching an episode of that show you recommended to me, and this one character, Spike, gives this whole speech to Buffy and her ex-boyfriend. He was like you’ll fight and you’ll have sex and you’ll do the whole love-hate thing, but you’ll never be friends. Because you love each other. I can’t believe you don’t see it. One day you're going to see it, and you're going to fall hard and fast.” She tries to explain and you smile softly at her.

"You know, Buffy and Angel don’t end up together in the end. He leaves her. Men always leave.” Shit. You probably shouldn’t have said that. It probably confirms her theory, even though it’s not true.

Garcia gives you a knowing smile, but doesn’t say any more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i posted another short little spencer/reader story that i couldn't get out of my head, would be pretty cool if you read it <3
> 
> i think in terms of this story, amplification is coming up soon, maybe next chapter? also reader is so delusional smh


	16. dates and disagreements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> y/n and reid have a fight; y/n goes on a date

You’re out grabbing coffee with Penelope when it happens; a cute guy, one you vaguely know from around the office, asks you on a date. He’s cute, tall with dark hair and chocolate eyes, and if you’re being honest with yourself he looks more than a little like Spencer Reid. 

“Y/N! Hi! I don’t know if you really remember me, I’m Greg from over in counter-terrorism. We had that discussion last week about a case you were consulting on?” He looks hopeful and you smile back at him.

“Greg, of course I remember you! How are you doing?” You ask him politely.

“Great, I’m doing great. Listen -- would you be interested in maybe getting dinner with me sometime this week?” He looks so hopeful, and he looks so much like the man you can’t stop thinking about. You've got to stop thinking about Spencer Reid so often.

“Yes,” Shit. You didn’t think this through, you didn’t mean to say that, but it was too late to back out now. “That sounds, um, good. When were you thinking?”

He suggests tomorrow night and you agree; at least you can get the whole date thing over with. Greg seems nice, but you really aren’t looking for a relationship right now. You’re happy being single, loving it even. A relationship would just mess up the great sleeping situation you have going on. 

As he walks away, Penelope grabs your arm. “What was that? No really, did you totally lose your head? My little sugar plum, you can’t just date other guys when you already have a man you’re in love with. It totally does not work like that. Besides, how do you think Reid is going to feel he finds out you’re going out with some other guy?”

“I’m not in love with Reid, and Reid is not in love with me. We’re friends. I know our friendship started in a totally weird way, but he’s not going to get jealous or whatever because I go on a date with a guy I barely know.” You’re not going to think about how you’d be jealous if Spencer went on a date with another girl.

“The two of you give me migraines, honestly. You tell me you don’t love him, he tells me you will never be together, it drives me crazy!” Penelope sighs, and you smile at her. 

“Wanna come over tomorrow and help me get ready for my date?” You know it will cheer her up and take her mind off the fictional romance between you and Reid. 

She squeals in delight and starts talking fashion, shoes, make up, as you make your way back to the FBI building. 

\------------------------

That night you’re spending time in your own apartment for once, watching some horror movie marathon. You aren’t paying attention. You’ve curled up on one side of the couch and Spencer has laid down, placing his head on your lap, citing that he was just really tired today. You start playing with his hair; he’s been growing it out and you love how it looks on him. You need to stop thinking about his hair. The two of you are becoming increasingly more tactile with each other. Is it beyond the boundaries of friendship? Maybe. You try not to think about it too much. Instead, you continue to stroke his hair as the horror movies play on.

“You know, there’s an Indiana Jones movie marathon on tomorrow night, do you want to watch it together? I promise to not spend the entire time pointing out the many inaccuracies the film portrays.” Reid looks up at you, a hopeful look in his eyes. 

“Wish I could, Baby Genius. I kind of agreed to go on a date tomorrow night.” You wince, unsure of how this was going to play out. 

Reid sits up, fast. Clenching his jaw, he asks you, “What do you mean you’re going on a date, since when did you start dating again? Who’s it with, do I know him?”

“Woah, what’s with the interrogation? I didn’t really plan on saying yes, but I did so I’m just going to go and see what happens. There probably won’t be a second date. And yes, you probably do know him; my date is with Greg from counter-terrorism.” You’re confused at his reaction. He seems annoyed at the idea of you going out on a date. Maybe he really wanted to watch that movie marathon with you.

“I just didn’t realise you were dating, is all. I just thought… I don’t know. Never mind. I hope you and Greg have a good time.” The way he says it doesn’t sound genuine. 

You get up from the couch, suddenly feeling the urge to put some distance, both emotionally and physically between you and Spencer. Your friendship was unconventional at best, but certain lines are being crossed by the two of you, and you aren’t sure how to deal with that. 

“Spencer. We’re friends, right? I don’t understand why you can’t just be happy that someone is finally interested in me. It’s been forever since someone actually wanted to date me. I was starting to think that like, I’m hook-up material only.” You confess to him and once again wonder what it is about Spencer that has you spilling all your secrets. 

“Y/N, you’re crazy if you think that people aren’t interested in you. Don’t you know how incredible you are? I just don’t think Greg from counter-terrorism is the right kind of guy for you.” Reid keeps clenching his jaw. You can tell he’s mad, even if he doesn’t sound it. 

“Who cares if he’s not right for me? It’s one date, not a marriage proposal. Stop acting like my father give it up already.” You’re glaring at him at this point and he mutters something under his breath. You’re sick of this; it almost feels like a fight. 

“Well are you at least coming over tomorrow night, after your date with Greg?” He demands suddenly. 

“Oh my God, Spencer. I’m not going to go on a date with a guy and then come back to your apartment to sleep with you. Do you know how weird that is? There’s this thing called boundaries, y’know.” You cry out, “And you know what? Maybe I’ll bring Greg home, or go back to his after the date!” 

You didn’t think you would, but the words were out your mouth before you could really think them through. 

“You’re going to fuck him in the bed we sleep in? Classy.” Spencer retorts and you see red. 

“Don’t you dare, Spencer Reid. Are you telling me you haven’t fucked anyone in your own bed since our arrangement started?” Despite what people seemed to think about Spencer, the man was not that shy when it came to getting girls.

“No, I haven’t exactly had the time to have sex with anyone seeing as I spend most of my nights sleeping with you.” He looks you dead in the eyes, unfamiliar expression on his face. 

“Well, maybe we need to spend some time apart, if you think that our arrangement is getting in the way of your personal life,” You sigh and turn away from him. “Maybe you should go home.”

“Y/N, I--” He starts but you cut him off. 

“I mean it, Reid. Go home. I’ll see you at work tomorrow. We just need to spend a few days apart, don’t you think?”

He doesn’t say anything to you, but he grabs his bag and leaves. As the door closes, you sink into the closest chair. If you wanted space so badly, then why was it so painful to watch him leave?

At work the next day, the two of you didn’t talk. He was ignoring you completely, other than the occasional hurt look he’d throw at you. People notice.

“Uh oh, are the love birds having their first fight?” Morgan laughs after a few hours of you and Reid giving each other the silent treatment. 

“Shut up Morgan, there’s nothing going on between us. Not now, not ever.” Reid sighed, placing emphasis on the ‘ever’. 

That kind of hurt. Not that you want anything to happen between you and Reid. You stay silent, eyes down on your paperwork. 

“Y/N.” Emily throws a pen at you to get your attention. “Are you excited for your date tonight? Garcia told me all about it. Greg from counter-terrorism? He’s cute, if tall and skinny is your type.” 

“A date? With someone other than Pretty Boy? I see what’s happening now. My man is jealous!” Morgan declares, and you shake your head. 

“Why would Reid be jealous? We’re just work friends, after all.” You reply, deliberately not looking at Reid. You just know he’s clenching his stupid jaw. 

You’re still mad about last night. You kind of want to punch him, just like back in the day when the two of you hated each other. A part of you is surprised though, that Reid seemingly isn’t interested in seeing anyone outside of you. That little part of you feels victorious somehow. You shove those feelings aside, and try to hype yourself up for your date with Greg.

\-------------------

You were bored. Dinner dates were usually not your thing; you preferred to do something or go somewhere with whatever guy you were seeing. Dinner meant all you could possibly do was make small talk, and it was nearly impossible to make an early escape. 

Greg talked. A lot. Mostly about himself, the cases he’d solved, his interests. He’d ask you a question and then cut you off to turn the topic back to himself. He was like every older guy you’d dated in college; a totally narcissist, a wannabe alpha male. 

You still had a whole meal to finish before you could make your escape, so you proceed to order wine. When the wine wasn’t strong enough to get you through, you order a martini. Greg doesn’t seem to notice how little you’re enjoying his presence, or how much you're drinking. 

By dessert, you’d had just enough to drink to tune out most of what Greg was talking about and enough to make him cute again. He really is very cute. He reminds you of Reid. Don’t think about Reid.

Greg asks if you want to go back to his place; you say yes. You know in the back of your head its a bad idea, but you’re still mad at Spencer and this feels like a good, if immature, way to get back at him. Besides, you haven’t had sex in a year -- you are more than ready to end your dry spell. 

Once you arrive at Greg’s, things go down hill fast. He quite literally rips your dress -- a dress you actually really liked -- off your body, before pulling you into his bedroom. You’re hoping the sex will be good, that maybe he’s just really passionate. 

It wasn’t. He was overly aggressive in bed, pounding into you like there was no tomorrow. You were half sure he was going to tear something. It was as if he thought you were some kind of doll he could throw around. You tried to take control of the situation, getting on top of him. Bad move. His hands were placed tightly around your neck almost instantly. It was as if he wasn’t willing to give up control at all. You sigh inwardly, you'd forgotten how much you hate having sex with wannabe alpha males like Greg. Thankfully, it was over soon. 

He lets you up, goes into the bathroom and turns on the shower, not checking to see if you were okay at all. Rolling your eyes, you grab a t-shirt you liked the look of out of his wardrobe -- an expensive looking one, because fuck Greg -- and roll it up into your bag. You try to put your dress back on: it was totally ruined. Fine, you’d steal another t-shirt and some sweatpants. Expensive ones. Fuck you, Greg.

You pull them on quickly and quietly, before making your escape. Hailing a cab, you realise how sore you’re going to be the next day and that was without the probable bruising around your neck. Great. You should’ve just gone home and made up with Spencer. 

You walk barefoot into your building and make your way onto the lift, hoping it would be empty. Except someone else is already inside. Spencer. He looks you up and down; you remember that you’re dressed in someone other man’s clothes and look well and truly fucked. 

“Good date? I see you’ve collected a whole outfit this time.” He doesn’t look at you when he speaks. You wonder if you’ve ruined things irreversibly.

“And a second t-shirt. The asshole ripped my dress to shreds.” You mutter, feeling incredibly insecure for some reason. 

“The blue one?” He finally looks at you, and you nod. “Pity, I always thought you looked good in that one.” 

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

“Yeah, me too. Anyways, at least I got a whole new outfit.” You sigh. 

You’re about to tell him that you would’ve rather stayed in with him and watched movies together, that you hate fighting with him, that spending time with guys other than him doesn’t feel right anymore, but the elevator stops on his floor. He gets out promptly without looking back at you. You wonder if you should go to his door, but you feel incredibly insecure right now. And besides, what if he rejected you? All you wanted to do was cry. Tonight was horrible. Sniffling, you pull your phone out of your bag and call Penelope. 

“Pen, can you come over? I think I made a huge mistake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was meant to include amplification but that will be next chapter i guess 
> 
> also i am thinking.... what if once this fic was done i did a shorter fic with scenes from reids pov ? this is nowhere near done still but like i am thinking ahead always
> 
> side note updates will probs start slowing down soon bc my semester starts soon but like i'm totally not giving up on this story i will finish it 100%


	17. anthrax and realisations

Your body aches the next day and you definitely have bruising on your neck. Men are the worst. You’re about to take another shower, to wash away the pain and the dirtiness you feel after such a shitty sexual encounter, when you get an urgent call to come into the office. Something big was going on. You pull on a high necked top and hope that nobody asks any questions. You hope the ‘something big’ was an exaggeration: you’d barely slept the past two nights without Spencer.

The team assembles quickly in the round table room, where a woman is putting some kind of medication into little cups. 

“This is Dr Linda Kimura, Chief of special pathogens with the CDC.” Hotch introduces sternly. “Let’s get started.”

“Last night, twenty five people checked into emergency rooms in and around Annapolis. They were all at the same park after two o’clock yesterday. Within ten hours, the first victim died. Now it’s just past seven the next day, we have twelve dead.” JJ explains, and the mood in the room shifts.

“Lung failure and black legions.” Morgan notes slowly. “Anthrax?”

“Anthrax doesn’t kill this fast.” Reid states while reading his file. 

“This strain does.” Kimura replies. Fuck.

There’s a media black out, to reduce the risk of panic or the UNSUB destroying his samples. The team debate the options and the ethics of keeping the situation a secret; you think that you’d rather remain oblivious to such things if you weren’t on the case.

Kimura further explains the severity of this strain of anthrax, and why the victims are dying so fast. It sounds horrific and you pray that nobody else becomes infected, especially nobody on your team. Maybe that last part was selfish, but losing anyone on the team was something you didn’t think you could survive.

“Reid, you and Y/L/N go with Dr. Kimura to the hospital and interview the victims. Morgan and Prentiss, you’ll go to the crime scene with a hazmat team. There’s Cipro. Everybody needs to take it before we go.” Hotch orders, and you all grab a cup. 

“We don’t know if it's effective against this strain, but it’s something.” Kimura admits, reassuring absolutely nobody in the room. 

“This is really happening?” You ask to nobody in particular. This is the kind of event that only happens in awful disaster movies, not real life. 

\----------------------

The hospital was a dead end. Reid attempts to do a memory recall exercise with Abby, one of the victims. Halfway into her description of the day before, she becomes incoherent. 

“What’s causing her aphasia?” Reid asks as you exit the room. Things are still kind of frosty between the two of you and you hope Kimura hasn’t noticed the tension. 

“The poison is infecting the parietal lobe, impairing her speech. Some of the other patients displayed the same symptoms shortly before they died.” She answers, before telling you that the only drug really doing anything for the victims is the morphine used to control their pain levels.

You and Reid watch in silence as another patient dies; the seventeenth to do so. Reid and Kimura start talking about the strain, you stand and watch. All this science talk goes way over your head, you can barely keep up with the two of them. You wonder why Hotch even sent you here. 

“Extreme bacterial amplification. Whoever created this had to at some point go to the trouble of testing it.” Reid theorises, getting the attention of both you and Kimura. 

“What do you mean?” She asks him.

“Think about how scientists work their way up to human testing; they start with rodents and then move on to larger animals. At some point, they do a very small trial with people -- there’s no way this was his first human trial.” He explains and Kimura looks sceptical. 

“We’d have heard about a previous anthrax attack.” She tells him.

“Not if it presented itself as something else.” Reid has that look on his face, the one he does when he’s thinking hard. You love watching him think. This isn’t really the time for thinking about what you love about Reid. 

You’re feeling incredibly useless around the hospital; you don’t have the knowledge or the interest in how anthrax works to help Kimura and Reid. Did Hotch send you here because of Reid? Was this his attempt of trying to get the two of you to sort out your problems with each other, just like he used to do? It wasn't going to work; Reid was too busy being a genius for the two of you to have a conversation about the whole Greg fiasco and your personal lives. 

Waiting for him and Kimura to finish their discussions and theorising, you sit in a chair across from the victims’ rooms. You can’t wait to get out of here; hospitals always fill you with a sense of impending doom. 

\--------------

You find yourself the house of Lawrence Nichols, a potential subject in the case, with Morgan and Reid. A part of you sighs internally at the continued tension between you and Reid. Even Morgan is annoyed by it; on the car ride over he told the two of you ‘to just kiss and make up already’. 

You think about kissing Spencer. Stop thinking about kissing Spencer. 

However, now is not the time or the place for you and Spencer to start discussing your personal dramas -- especially in front of Morgan. The three of you begin to walk towards Nichols’ house when Morgan gets a call, telling him that the lab Nichols’ works at is clean. You hang back with him, as Reid continues on. You don’t really feel like being alone with him right now. 

Morgan turns around to speak to you and Reid, looking confused to see that Reid had wandered off. 

“Where’d Pretty Boy go, and why didn’t you go with him?. Are the two of you really that mad at each other to stop you from being attached at the hip?” You didn’t realise people saw you and Spencer as being that close. You’d deal with that later. 

“I wanted to hear what Prentiss had to say. Besides, Reid and I can spend five minutes apart without it killing us.” The current distance between you and Spencer feels like an ocean and it’s tearing you apart inside, but Morgan doesn’t need to know about that. 

The two of you walk around to find where Reid had gone off to. You see him inside what looks like a home lab. Before either of you could make your way inside, Spencer slams the door in your faces. 

“Reid, Reid!” Morgan yells, banging on the door.

“Get back, get out of here both of you!” Reid says urgently, looking at you with fear in his eyes. 

“What are you doing, what’s wrong?” Morgan goes to open the door but Reid stands firm, locking the door from the inside. 

“Get back, believe me, get back.” He instructs, as you see the broken test tube on the floor. 

No. No. No. Not Spencer, anyone but Spencer. 

You can’t breathe, it feels like all of the oxygen has been suddenly sucked out of the air. Your heart stops and you look at him, devastation clearly written across your face. 

“I’m sorry.” He’s looking at you again, panic clear in his eyes, and your heart shatters into a million pieces. You can’t lose him. He’s your best friend, you realise. 

Morgan goes off to make the call, to meet Hotch and explain the situation, to instruct the hazmat team that’s surely on their way.

You stand there with Spencer, glass separating to the two of you. 

“Spence?” Your voice cracks, “I’m sorry about our fight. I… Greg was awful and you were right and I never want to fight with you again, you know that?”

“I was an asshole. You have every right to do whatever you want, I promise. I hate fighting with you too. Let’s put it behind us, alright? I think we have bigger problems right now, don’t you?” He reassures you before trying to crack a joke. You smile weakly but you don’t laugh.

Spencer gives you a small smile, before beginning to look around the room. You watch him, helpless. Hotch calls; the two of them argue about his staying to investigate the room. Classic Spencer, doing everything in his power to solve a case, but you give him a look silently begging him to just go to the hospital. Reid continues to look around, as they set up a grey zone outside the door. Hotch comes over to you and pulls you away from where Reid is. 

“Hotch, I’m not leaving him. Don’t make me leave him.” You beg, not even caring that you’re being disrespectful, that you're essentially telling your boss that there is far more to your relationship with Spencer than anyone knows. 

“Y/N. I need you to get your head in the game here. I won’t make you leave, but you need to focus. The case is still the priority, even if one of our own is down. I know there’s more to your and Reid’s friendship than you both let on -- don’t give me that look, I’m a profiler -- but you can’t let it get in the way here, okay? I need you to make some calls, but you can stay with Reid once he’s done in the lab. Keep us updated of the situation.” Hotch orders. You hate working with profilers sometimes, but at least he’s letting you stay with Spencer. 

Hotch and Morgan leave to the BAU, to try and figure out who Nichols’ partner could be, and you take a moment to realign yourself. You can’t breakdown. You can’t cry. You need to be strong, for Spencer. He’ll be fine, he’ll make it through this and be fine. Spencer can’t die. You can’t imagine a world without Spencer Reid in it.

You make the calls Hotch ordered you to make, connecting with the team get the latest information on the case. After, you head back over to the grey zone, just as Spencer is hanging up his phone and Kimura and her team are making their way in. You wished you could be in there too. All you wanted was to be close to Spencer. You wait, you wait, you wait. You call him.

“Hi Reid, you’ve got me and Garcia on the phone. How… How’s it going in there?”

“I’ve seen better days.” He coughs and your heart constricts.

“You need stay with me, Baby Genius, come on now. Em and Rossi don’t think the partner was a co-worker, do you have any more ideas in that big brain of yours? Can you tell us anything more about him?"

“I, I’ve already been through everything.” He sounds sick. Why does he sound so sick already?

“Spencer, look harder, please. We need to know more otherwise we’re not going to be able to find him.” And if you don’t find him, Spencer might die. Spencer can’t die. 

You hear Reid looking around more, finding a photo of Nichol’s teaching, a thesis, a lead in the case. Then a name. Chad Brown.

“Spencer, you did it. Please get out of there now.” You beg as he hangs up on you. A tear slips down your face; you plead yourself not to cry.

“Y/N, are you okay? I know you and Reid are… well, I know you and Reid.” Garcia asks hesitantly, quietly. 

“No. I won’t be okay until Spencer gets that cure.” You say bluntly, wiping your tears away and hanging up the phone. 

Don’t cry.

Morgan calls you with updates; Reid is finally out of that stupid lab. He’s being hosed down by the hazmat team and he looks so sick, sicker than he sounded. You can’t even put into words how worried you are. 

“Go help Hotch,” He wheezes at you. As if. 

“Hotch has the rest of the team. I’m staying with you, now and at the hospital.” You tell him stubbornly. There’s no way you’re letting him out of your sights, you can’t. 

“I’m about to get naked so they can scrub me down, if you won’t leave then can you at least turn around?” He implores. 

You wait outside and give him his privacy.

\----------------

The rest of the case is a blur to you. All you can think about is Spencer. Vaguely, you hear that the UNSUB has been caught, that they recovered all the anthrax, that everything will be fine. You don’t care. All you care about is Spencer.

You wait outside his hospital room the entire time Kimura and her team are treating him. You have no idea what they’re doing, but they have the cure and that’s all you care about. Spencer will be fine. Spencer is going to be fine. You will be fine. 

Hours later, you’re sitting in his room eating shitty hospital jello, the first thing you’ve eaten all day.

“You’re eating jello?” He mutters, opening his eyes. You’ve never been so glad to watch Spencer wake up. 

“Hi, Spence. You had me real worried for a sec.” You whisper, smiling at him. He smiles weakly back. 

Kimura walks in, and Spencer asks for jello, and then about what had actually gone down with the case. 

“We got Brown, it’s over. The last four victims are on the mend. Everything’s going to be okay.” You tell him, and beg yourself not to make a scene by crying there and then.

Kimura asks you to step outside while she performs some tests on Spencer and you excuse yourself to the bathroom; you desperately need a moment alone, a moment to process the chaos of the day. You lock yourself in the tiny bathroom and as you look at yourself in the mirror, the penny drops. The final switch clicks into place. Everything in your consistently confused brain makes sense. It makes you burst into tears. You like Spencer Reid. You really like him. In fact, you love him. You love him, you love him, you love him. 

Fuck. 

You love how smart he is, always the smartest person in the room. You love his kind soul, the one he bares to you night after night. You love how much he cares for everyone, how large his heart is. You love how he doesn’t stop talking during films, how much he loves rambling to you about all the facts and information he finds interesting whenever he has the chance. You love his silly sense of humour and his silly little science magic that you don’t quite understand. You love how wholeheartedly enthusiastic he is about things like halloween or sci-fi media or coffee. You love his hair, his eyes, his cheekbones, his smile. You love his totally nerdy outfits and his stupid little glasses that make him look like a college professor. 

You love the nights in his apartment, the way he holds you in bed, the comfort he never ceases to provide you. You love the way he lets you steal his clothes and smiles when you wear them. You love the way he genuinely looks after you, brushing your hair and caring for your drunken mess of a self, checking up on you anytime things get rough. You love the side of him that he shows only to you, the way he shares parts of himself that you don’t think he’s ever shared with anyone else. 

He’s your Spencer, and you want to hold him tightly and never let him go. All you want is to show him how much you love him, how much you’d do for him, how he means everything to you. How can you have loved him for so long and not known it?

You love him but you can never have him, for he doesn’t feel the same way. You know he doesn’t, and your heart breaks.

For so long, all you showed him was the worst of yourself, that’s the impression you made. You instigated conflict, you were the reason he didn’t like you for so long. You painted him the villain in your narrative and selfishly forced him to play the part. He was so open about his dislike of you, and while you might consider yourself to be close friends now, a large part of you wonders if a small part of him dislikes you still. He definitely finds you annoying; the amount of times he clenches his jaw and shoots frustrated looks at you is countless. 

And what is your friendship, really? A sleeping arrangement. You might call him a good friend because you spend the early hours of the morning together more times than not, that while unconventional it’s still a friendship. But deep down you just don’t think Spencer particularly likes you any more than he likes anyone else: he’d called you just ‘work friends’ only the other day. He only keeps you around because he’s terrified of losing people. He feels like your arrangement takes up too much of his time. He thinks you’re self obsessed, and maybe you are. 

You’re a former annoyance turned into a nighttime friend. To him, you’re an escape from the loneliness of living alone and a sleep aid. Spencer Reid is a stubborn man, a man that sees you as a tentative friend and colleague at best. He’ll never love you back.

You love him, and you can never tell him. 

Looking at your face in the mirror, you see you’re a mess of smudged mascara around bloodshot eyes and tear tracks on a too pale face. Useless. Carefully, you wash your face, cleaning the evidence of the breakdown you just had. 

Back in his hospital room you see Reid lying there looking so sick and you want to start crying again. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” He croaks out and you laugh at the irony. 

“I’m fine Spencer,” No you’re not. “How are you feeling?” 

“I’m in pain -- I refused to take narcotics, but I’m going to be okay. Don’t worry about me.” He smiles shakily at you. 

“I’ll always worry about you, Spencer.” You say softly. Shit. Don’t say too much. 

\----------------------------

That night, late that night, you show up on Penelope’s doorstep, a look of devastation on your face. She takes one look at you and seems to know everything. You guess, she really isn’t joking when she tells you she knows everything about everyone. 

“You’ve realised that you love him, haven’t you?” She takes your hand and squeezes it sympathetically as she pulls you inside to sit on the couch. 

“All the poets, they fucking lied when they said love was all roses and summer days. I feel as if I’ve fallen hard and fast and slammed into a concrete sidewalk. I feel like someone’s set me on fire and burnt me out and all that’s left is him. I feel like he’s the sun; when he’s around I feel so full and vibrant but when he’s gone I’m grey and empty. He’s my anchor and I’m a sinking ship. And he doesn’t even know it.” Your eyes are sparking with tears and you beg yourself not to start crying. “And why the fuck am I being so fucking poetic about it?” 

Garcia just smiles. “Because you love him. And poetry is the language of love.”

“The worst part is that I can never tell him, you know. And you can never tell him or anyone else, even Morgan. Because I know he doesn’t love me. I look at him and I feel my heart shattering, because to him I'm just the girl he spends his nights with and to me he’s the only person keeping me whole.

“You know, we spend almost every night together? Both of us have chronic insomnia, so we sleep in the same bed almost every night. I don’t know why but it helps. That’s the entire basis of our friendship. He started showing up at my door and sleeping in my bed. I’m an annoyance and all he want from me is someone to hold as he sleeps. We’ve both been using each other, but now I’m emotionally invested and it’s going to ruin everything. But I’ll let him use me as much as he wants; I’d do anything for him, even if it hurts me.” Your heart is beating so fast, and the relief of finally telling someone about the sleeping arrangement, about everything you feel, takes such a weight off your chest.

“Okay, sugar plum, let’s go through this slowly, okay?” Garcia seems shocked at the immense outpouring of emotion she’s just witnessed.

“Number one: You’re in love with Boy Genius, wholeheartedly enough to get poetic about it. Number two: You’re swearing me to secrecy because you have no plans to ever tell Reid that you love him. Number three: You and Reid only became friends because you… platonically share a bed at night? And you only built a friendship because of that, and therefore you think he can’t possibly share your feelings.”

“Yeah, that’s everything.” You breathe out, feeling so incredibly overwhelmed.

“Y/N. You have to speak to Reid about this. I promise you he likes you a lot more than you think he does.”

“What? No way; I annoy him constantly, don’t you see how he’s always clenching his jaw and looking frustrated around me? We're friends, sure but it will never be more than that.”

“I don’t think you’re reading any of those situations correctly, sugar cakes. You know, Reid speaks to me about you too; I have the benefit of knowing all sides of the little love story you guys have going on. You need to tell him!” She practically orders you, wagging her finger in your face.

“I’m not telling Reid anything, I don’t want to ruin what little we have.” You sigh, “You need to promise me you’re not going to say a word about this to anyone, okay?

“I won’t say a word, angel cakes. But keeping this a secret? It’s only going to hurt you in the long run, Y/N.” She smiles sympathetically.

How do you tell her that it’s already eating you alive?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> every time i write i listen to the same reid inspired playlist and it provides me with endless inspiration; the love realisation was written while i cried to that playlist LMAO 
> 
> anyways congrats to reader for finally figuring out what we all knew


	18. love and running away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> y/n is angsty. thats it. that's the chapter

These days, you hate yourself. You’re so tired of lying and faking and being dishonest. It never ends. You tell everyone you’re okay. Lie. You tell everyone that you and Spencer are just friends, and that you don’t have feelings for him. Lie. You tell Spencer that everything is good when he asks why you’re so subdued. Lie. 

You’ve never really been one for lying, before you got involved in whatever it is you and Spencer have. Once upon a time, you prided yourself on being an honest person. You hate dishonesty. You’d always thought that there was never a good reason to lie about anything, and then you and Spencer started sleeping together and then you found yourself lying all the time. Sometimes you wonder if the BAU, if Spencer, changed you completely.

Looking back on your past relationships, you wonder if you’d ever truly been in love before. Perhaps you’d loved your few ex-boyfriends, but you’d never been in love with them. Love then had been good and sensible and like water in a lake, peaceful. Love then had been vanilla ice cream and radio pop. Love then had been shades of grey. 

The love you felt now, the love you felt for Spencer Reid was wild and uncontrolled. It was a forest fire and ocean waves crashing against the shore. It was all consuming and passionate. You wonder why you didn’t realise it sooner, how in denial you were. All those times that Spencer Reid invaded your thoughts, and you thought that was normal? How silly you were. 

All those times Spencer had captivated your every thought and every feeling, you’d thought it to be friendship. You knew it wasn’t, and yet you excused it as another facet of the unconventional nature of the relationship the two of you held. Do you even really know yourself, know your own mind, if you can wilfully be entirely deluded to not see that you’ve desperately been in love with Spencer for over a year? How embarrassing for you, a profiler, to be unable to profile yourself. 

You’re well aware of the fact Spencer Reid isn’t perfect. He can be obnoxious, he feels the need to be the smartest in the room at all times. He can be abrasive and cold if you get on his bad side, and he always knows exactly where to hit to impart the most damage. He hogs the covers at night. He can be such an asshole, more often than you’d care to admit. 

Spencer Reid was not perfect. You were not perfect. This wasn’t some romantic bullshit love where the both people are soulmates or perfectly made for each other or even made for each other at all. There’s no comparing him to a summer’s day or writing of sonnets declaring his perfection. Instead, you think that you and Spencer are probably like puzzle pieces that don’t quite match together. You can’t ignore the bad about him, and he’s not your knight in shining armour. He’s just an imperfect man, and you’re just an imperfect woman who happens to love him. 

However much you wanted it not to, the fact that you’re hopelessly in love with him changes things. Of course it does, how could it not? You’re far too aware of yourself, of how your heart beats, of how your breathing sounds, of how your mind obsesses. You hate it. You hate change. Change never brings anything good. 

But things need to change.

You find yourself crying in the shower one night; heart breaking again and again. Every time you remember that you love him, you remember that he does not love you. It hurts. It hurts so much you feel like screaming. You’re supposed to be at Spencer’s right now but instead you’re sobbing in the shower because you have to pretend that everything is normal, everything is fine, when it is not, very much not okay. He’ll be wondering where you are. You keep him waiting. 

You were so sick of crying. Your mother had once told you that no man deserved your tears. If anyone was the exception to that, it would be Spencer Reid. You need to toughen up, stop being so damn emotional. It’s time to accept things for the way they are.

Drying your eyes, you watch yourself in the mirror, silently working up the courage to go downstairs to watch a film with Spencer, to sleep in his bed. You put on his clothes, of course you were wearing his clothes again, and head over to his place. He’d given you a key after his hospital stay, so that someone had access to his home in cases of emergency. Or just so he didn’t have to get up and answer the door ever time you came over. Either reason works. 

“Hey, I was expecting you earlier. I almost thought you were going to stand me up.” He doesn’t look up from the book he’s reading. He’s wearing his glasses. Don’t forget to breathe. You make your way over to his couch and sit down next to him, slightly further away than you usually would. You’re so close to him and yet so far away. 

“No as if I would, I was just washing my hair is all.” And crying your heart out. Can’t forget that part. 

“You look cute with your hair all wet like that, don’t you know?” He smiles at you and you stop breathing. You need to stop doing that. 

“Thanks, Spence. I’m pretty beat, are you ready for bed or what?” You ask, hoping he says yes. You’ve so desperately missed his arms. 

“Yes, it’s been a long day. I think I could sleep for days.” He chuckles, as the two of you make your way to the bedroom. 

You felt at home in his arms. 

While your mind refused to tell Spencer of your love for him, your body would betray you every night. You became clingy in your sleep. Going to bed with him would be the same as always, his arm draped loosely around your shoulders, your head on his chest. There had always been something so soothing about that small amount of physical contact. Before, that was all the contact you needed. Now, you craved more. Selfishly, you need to be closer to him. Suddenly, you found yourself waking up with his arm tightly around your waist, your legs intertwined, yourself pressed into his side, arm on his chest. You refuse to bring it up. You don’t want him to call things off, now that the way you’re sleeping is decidedly not platonic. You have a love hate relationship with this new development: being close to him was everything, but it meaning nothing hurt more than you’d care to admit. So you don’t talk about it.

Reid does though. 

“We seem to be more uh, clingy, during the night. Any ideas as to why that is?” He asks one day while the two of you were watching television.

Yes. You were in love with him.

“No, are you finding it weird?” Please don’t say yes. 

“Oh no, I was just wondering why we’re suddenly so, uh, cuddly. Maybe we just subconsciously crave more physical contact in our lives and therefore getting it from each other at night. It’s fine with me but I just wanted to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable.” 

How could you be uncomfortable, spending every night wrapped around the man you loved? 

“No, it’s fine with me. I guess we’re both just lonely.” You laugh nervously. He looks at you funny and you make excuses to leave his apartment. 

\-----------------

You’re feeling suffocated. Living like this is torture; you haven’t yet accepted the new normal, of loving Spencer and pretending you don’t. You need time and you need space. Time and space away from Spencer Reid. He’s everywhere. That’s the trouble of falling in love with a close colleague who also lives in the apartment below yours. You wish falling in love was more convenient. 

Finally, things get to a boiling point. You were doing so badly at work, Hotch had pulled you into his office to make sure you weren’t about to burn out or pull an Elle, whatever that meant. You told him you were fine, just feeling the pressure. He suggests time off. You wonder if you’re about to be demoted, but he reassures you before you get too carried away with those kinds of thoughts. You just need to realign yourself, away from the office environment, he tells you. Hotch is right. You need to get away from Spencer. Just for a week or two. 

By the time you get home that night, you have a series of texts from Penelope. 

_Penelope: pushed through your application for time off: u’ve got two weeks starting tomorrow! <3_

_Penelope: ur going to new york, by the way. you need to get out of town, i know you do. flights are booked and so is accommodation. i’ll text u the deets later._

_Penelope: it’s going to be okay. ur going to take your break and get ur head on straight and u are going to be fine. everything will work itself out the way its supposed to_

_Penelope: love u angel cakes <3 _

Two weeks in the city. Perfect. You have college friends there, friends who would be more than happy to see you. Packing your suitcase should be easy, except you find yourself staring at a pile of Spencer’s clothes, clothes you’d stolen over the past year. You’d taken a lot more than you’d realised and you should probably return some of them to him. Regardless, you wonder if you should pack some of his clothes -- you find them comforting. No, you think. A clean break from Spencer is the whole point of this trip. You need to clear your head, and bringing his clothes isn’t going to help. 

A part of you wonders how you’ll make it two weeks without sleeping with Spencer, if he’ll have trouble sleeping two weeks without you. Stop thinking about it. This break is necessary. 

_You: hey spence, can’t come over tonight :( will talk to u soon_

You don’t mention that you’re leaving town; how you you tell him that you’re leaving because of him? Simple: you just don’t. 

Early the next morning, you’re on a plane to New York. You hope it will bring you peace. You’ve left your phone in your apartment; forwarding all calls to Penelope. Is this running away? It feels like it. Sometimes, you need to run away, just for a little while. 

\----------------------

New York is great. Your friends are happy to see you, and even happier to give you the tour of all their favourite places. Being away from Spencer is helpful. You have time to catalogue your feelings, to place them into neat little boxes. You don’t have to think about him. He’s not everywhere you go. He’s still on your mind, all the time, but it’s manageable. You realise that your feelings for him are perhaps the strongest feelings you’ve ever felt, and that scares you. But you realise that you don’t have to be overwhelmed by them. You just have to learn to coexist with the space Spencer Reid has taken up in your heart, the real estate he owns in your mind. 

You’re at a coffee shop, a week into your trip, when your friend Laura finally asks you. 

“Okay, as much as I love seeing you and that you’re here; what are you doing here? I’ve never seen you this shaken up. Who is he?” By the look in her eyes, she’s not about to let you get away without answering all her questions. 

“How do you know I’m here about a man?” You respond carefully, not looking her in the eyes.

“Honey, it’s always about a man. Is he a good man at least?” She asks sympathetically. 

“He’s the best. I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone as much as I love him. The amount I feel for him… is terrifying to me.” You confess quietly, still staring at your coffee. 

“So what’s the problem then? Is he married?” Her eyes widen dramatically.

“Oh my God, no! But he doesn’t love me. That’s the problem. We work together, and I practically spend all my time at his apartment, I basically live with him. But he’ll never see me as anything more than a friend.” Tears are shining in your eyes, you brush them away.

“How do you know? Has he told you that?” Laura questions. 

“I haven’t told him how I feel. I ran away to New York instead. But I know for a fact he doesn’t. The things he’s said to me… No. He doesn’t love me back. And I’ll just have to live with that. I came here to compartmentalise, somewhere away from him.” You admit, and Laura nods. 

“Unrequited love is tough. I hope it works out for the two of you. I don’t know why, but I have a gut feeling that it will.” 

You barely sleep the entire time you’re away.

\-------------------------

You come back from the city feeling better about yourself, better about Spencer, better about your feelings for him. You’ve accepted them. You can manage them. You’re almost certain you’ll be able to stand in a room with him without wanting to burst into tears. 

Spencer is waiting outside your apartment when you arrive. 

“Have you been waiting outside my door this entire time, Spence?” You try and crack a joke. He doesn’t smile.

“I threatened Garcia into telling me when you’d be back. Why did you leave?” He asks, with a strange expression on his face. 

“You? Threatening Penelope? Now that I have to see.” You’re avoiding the question. 

“Y/N.” He’s blocking your door. “Why did you leave, without your phone, without telling me? I… I went work and you weren’t there. I called you, ten times, until Garcia answered the phone and told me you’d taken leave from work. She wouldn’t tell me where you’d gone.” He looks genuinely upset. Shit. “A part of me thought you weren’t coming back.”

You’d forgotten how deeply the idea of someone leaving him hurt him. Fuck. How had you forgotten that, in your panic to leave town?

“Spence, I -- Sorry, can we not do this in the hallway?” You cut yourself off, just wanting to get into the comfort of your apartment. He nods and you unlock the door with shaky hands. 

Leaving your suitcase by the door, you make your way to the couch and sit down. Spencer chooses to stand. You look up at him and your heart hurts at how upset he looks. 

“I’m sorry for leaving without telling you. Honestly, Hotch and Penelope were the only two that knew I was leaving, and Penelope was the only one who knew where I went. I just… I haven’t been doing to well recently and I needed to get out before I burnt out. You know what I mean?” You try and explain. He doesn’t look convinced. 

“Did you really feel like you couldn’t talk to me about what was going on?” Yes. How do you tell him that your love for him is the problem? 

“I don’t like talking about my feelings, Spence. I run away from my problems, I’m always running.” It’s true; as a teenager you’d stolen your parents’ credit cards and run away to you’re aunt’s house in California more times than you could count. You’d grown out of that habit as you’d aged, but the instinct was still there, always there. 

“I missed you. A lot.” He’s not looking at you, and he says it so quietly you almost missed it. 

“I missed you more. I… I find that I can barely sleep without you, these days.” You don’t look at him either. 

He finally sits down on the couch, and hesitantly hugs you. You breathe a sigh of relief in his arms. You never want him to let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shit's going down in my personal life so updates might be slower :( all the love x
> 
> edit: looks like it might be a 7-10 day period before i can update again, sorry for the wait 


	19. romance and resorts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> y/n and spencer go undercover to catch the unsub, because why not

Your first case back at work presents a problem. A big problem.

“Okay so, three couples have been murdered at a holiday resort in Miami, Florida. It’s an all-inclusive resort, so the local PD believe that the suspect either works there, is staying there, or somehow able to get in and out without anyone realising. However, it seems to be his entire hunting ground so far -- no victims have been found outside the resort. His type is young couples in love. Each of the couples murdered were described as being overly affectionate and two of them were even on their honeymoons.” JJ explains, while the rest of you look over the case files. The murders were violent to say the least. 

“I’ve spoken with local PD and the resort’s manager, and we believe the best way to play this is to go undercover to try and lure out the killer. If we can convince the UNSUB that two of you are madly in love, then we will be able to catch him in the act. It will mean little sleep and a lot of work, but I know we can pull it off. Y/L/N, Reid: the two of you are the youngest, so it makes sense that you’ll go undercover. This is an order, you can’t get out of this one. You match the UNSUB’s type perfectly.” Hotch orders the two of you. 

“And they have so much chemistry there’s no way the UNSUB won’t believe they’re in love.” You hear Morgan chuckle to Emily under his breath. 

“They don’t even have us convinced that they’re just friends; the UNSUB will totally fall for it.” She whispers back, and you glare at both of them.

You look reasonably calm on the outside, but inwardly you’re in panic mode. Pretend to be in love with Spencer Reid? That, you can do. You are in love with him. But afterwards? How do you deal with that? It feels almost ironic that you’d just finished running away to pack all your emotions into tiny little boxes, only to have to remove them again so soon. 

You look at Reid. He looks uncomfortable with the situation at hand. God, he really doesn’t love you, does he? You wonder if he’ll be able to keep up the charade, he doesn’t seem like he’d be that capable at acting to you. 

“Why me and Y/N? I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He mumbles and practically everyone in the room stares him down, as if he’d said something ridiculous. 

“It’s the perfect idea, you two already fight like a married couple and I would know -- I’ve been married three times!” Rossi laughs and everyone else nods in agreement. 

There was definitely no getting out of this one. 

\-----------------------

On the jet, Penelope calls to give Reid and yourself information on your cover identities. She was far too excited about the whole situation.

“You know what, if it wasn’t for the side note of murder, this would be so much fun for the two of you! Anyways: you’re going undercover as Louisa and Simon Reddings, both 28, from Las Vegas. You’re on your honeymoon, so surprise! I got you the honeymoon suite. The rest of the team will be in the presidential suite. Hotch, you’ll be working the reception desk, Morgan will be bartending by the pool -- and I expect lots of shirtless pictures of him -- and JJ and Emily will be there on a girls trip. Rossi will just be Rossi, on a solo vacation. All the documents you need will be ready and waiting for you at the resort! Have fun my bundles of joy, especially Reid and Y/N!” Penelope giggles as she hangs up the call. 

This was going to be stressful. 

The act starts once you land. All of you make your way to the resort in separate cars, as to not attract any unwanted attention to yourselves. You and Reid are in a car alone, scheduled to be the last to arrive. You’re incredibly nervous, and one look at him tells you he feels the same way. 

“So, Mr. Reddings, are you ready for our honeymoon?” You laugh and flutter your eyelashes at him. He doesn’t laugh, but he grabs onto your hand. 

“You know, I think we can do this, Baby Genius. How hard can pretending to be in love be?” He gives you the strangest look, but doesn’t let go of your hand. The contact is nice. 

The car finally pulls up to the resort, and the game is on. Reid helps you out of the car, hand on your waist. He holds you close as you walk into the resort, and you look up at him with a look of adoration that you’d usually hide behind a mask. 

“Hello there, my wife and I would like to check in? Our reservation should be under the name Reddings.” He states smoothly. Why does him calling you his wife give you butterflies? 

Hotch is the man at the reception desk. You don’t know how you didn’t notice; perhaps you were too wrapped up in staring up at Spencer Reid. Hotch gives you a knowing look, you wonder what it means. 

“Of course, Sir. Here’s your welcome packet.” A welcome packet filled with fake documents to get you through anything you might need while undercover. Reid thanks him, and continues to hold you close as the two of you make your way up to your suite. 

You barely stay there long enough to look around and put anything important in the safe; you need to be in public, where the UNSUB will see you. Grabbing your bag in one hand and Spencer’s hand in the other, you make your way onto the elevator, plastering a smile onto your face. 

You, Louisa Reddings, are happy. So happy. Ecstatic, even. You, Y/N Y/L/N, is bricking it. Fake it ‘til you make it, or whatever. 

In the elevator, you drop the act for a second; you’re feeling incredibly insecure. “Reid? What if we fuck this up? What if the UNSUB doesn’t believe us?”

“I don’t think it will be too hard to convince him we’re hopelessly in love and on our honeymoon, love. After all, the entire team seems to think we have some secret love affair going on, right? He smiles softly at you. 

He called you love. 

You must have had an odd expression on your face, because Spencer coughs and mutters, “I was just trying out pet names, you know, as Simon? I doubt he would simply call his wife by her name, don’t you think?” He looks embarrassed.

“No you’re right, I just wasn’t expecting it.” You weren’t expecting how it would give you butterflies. “What do you want me to call you? Does ‘darling’ work for you?” You ask him.

“Uh, that’s fine. I mean, I don’t really mind what you call me, you could call me anything and I think I’d be okay with it.” He stumbles over his words. You wonder if he’s talking as himself, or as Simon. 

Once at the pool, your act begins seriously. The two of you flirt and laugh and are constantly touching. It’s not as difficult as you’d thought it would be. Laughing with Spencer Reid feels like the easiest thing in the world.

“Hey, babe? Can you put sunscreen on my back? I don’t want to burn.” You smile at him and throw the bottle at him. He barely catches it. 

“Of course, love.” God, you wish he’d call you that in real life. 

You turn over on the sun lounger and he delicately begins to rub lotion into your back. His hands are so soft, so warm. You never want him to stop touching you. As his hands move lower, towards your waist, your mind wanders to the idea of having sex with him. You tense up. Thinking about sex with Spencer Reid isn’t uncommon for you these days; but never while he’s around. 

“Are you good?” He’s basically straddling you and he leans down to whisper in your ear. 

“Fine, sorry. Carry on, remember to look like you’re really into this or whatever.” You mutter in response.

“Do you want me to do the back of your legs as well, love?” He says, louder and you nod. 

His hands start rubbing the sunscreen just below your ass, and you hope he doesn’t realise how turned on you are by all this. He moves his hands so slowly down your thighs, and you wonder if he’s purposely going this slowly. 

“Babe, do you want me to put lotion on you afterwards?” Two can play at that game, and you’re sure he’s playing with you. He mutters an affirmation, and sits on the lounger next to yours. 

You go hardcore; straddling him, you begin to slowly rub sunscreen into his chest. Very slowly. He’s giving you that weird look again; you lean into his chest and whisper in his ear to at least try to look more in love with you. You can feel him smiling against your neck; if the UNSUB is watching, you hope he’s appreciating your act. Continuing your performance, you move your hands down his chest slowly. He’s more toned than you thought he’d be. 

Out the corner of you eye, you see a camera flash. You slowly turn your head, trying not to draw attention to yourself if it is the UNSUB photographing you and Reid.. It’s not. You see Morgan standing there with his phone out, grinning at you. Sighing you refocus yourself, while knowing that whatever picture Morgan took is being sent straight to Garcia, maybe even the rest of the team. 

Reid starts to look uncomfortable. Not all that noticeably, not in a way that the UNSUB would pick up on, but you know Reid. You know Reid better than anyone. 

“What’s wrong? Do you need me to move?” You ask through a smile, even though you’re cringing inside. Maybe he hates you being this close to him. 

“No, you’re fine, I was just uh, thinking of, um, Strauss.” He coughs out, and you’re confused.

“Why’s that, babe?” You’re still smiling through the confusion. Gotta keep up the act. 

“Uh, well, she wouldn’t really condone what’s happening here and I wouldn’t want the team to get in trouble.” He’s tense.

You wonder if you’re that unattractive to him that all he can think about while you’re straddling him is Strauss. 

“Fuck her. None of that exists right now anyways. Let’s just be Louisa and Simon, and enjoy the afternoon. Okay?” You whisper and lift yourself off Spencer, choosing to curl up next to him on the lounger. 

And that’s how you spend the rest of the day. Sitting together, laughing and smiling and joking. The worst part is that you genuinely aren’t acting. Outside of calling Spencer ‘Simon’, you really are just being yourself with him. Just slightly more flirtatious, slightly more forward. The way you would act with him if he loved you. 

But he doesn’t love you. 

\----------------------

You find yourself and Reid sitting at a nice table at the resort’s main restaurant. The table you’ve chosen is no accident -- it’s located in the centre of the room, so that most seats in the restaurant would have a good view of the two of you. 

Reid looks good tonight, you realise. He’s dressed up for the occasion, in clothes that he would never wear in real life. He’s gorgeous, and he takes your breath away. You’re dressed up too, in an expensive dress that’s perfectly suited to your body. The two of you are slightly over dressed for the restaurant but it doesn’t matter: everyone’s eyes will be on you. And that’s the whole point. 

“Did I tell you that you look gorgeous tonight, love?” Reid smiles at you and your heart stops. “I love you in that colour. This might be you’re best look yet, other than when you’re in our bed.” 

You almost choke on your water. Then you remember that Reid has seen you in his bed multiple times, almost always wearing his clothes, and it’s never sexy. 

“Thanks, babe. I wore it just for you.” You wink and he laughs. 

He keeps flirting. Comments about how attractive he finds you, touching your hand whenever he can, innuendos that make you laugh. You didn’t know Spencer had this side to him, and you wonder how much of this is acting. You find yourself getting jealous of the girls Spencer had dated in the past. Was he like this with them?

You want to tell him you love him. You can’t tell him you love him. 

The moment breaks when you notice JJ and Emily sitting behind Reid. Shit. They’ve heard everything, you realise. Emily makes eye contact with you and raises an eyebrow. You ignore her. 

Focusing your attention back on Reid, you give him the biggest smile. It comes naturally, because he’s just everything you’ve ever wanted and in this moment you have him, even though it’s just pretend. It’s okay though. You’re very good at pretending, aren’t you?

You don’t tell Reid that Emily and JJ were privy to every word the two of you had exchanged during dinner. 

After dinner, of course, is dancing. You’re pretty sure Spencer doesn’t know how to dance, and you’re pretty much right. But the two of you sway to the music, and you rest your head against his chest. His arms are wrapped low around your waist and you want this to be real so badly. Being this close to Spencer Reid just feels right. You don’t want this to end. You want to pretend to be Louisa and Simon for the rest of your life if it means that you and Spencer can pretend to be in love for a little while longer. 

But everything ends, eventually. Just like the song you are dancing slowly to, this case will end, and your game with Spencer will end. And you’ll return to being friends, just friends.

It hurts. 

\---------------------------

You spend the next day at the pool again, laughing with Reid. He holds you close and you look at him as if he’s your entire world. He is. His little jokes and small touches and looks of adoration towards you are breaking down the walls you so carefully constructed. 

This is the happiest you’ve ever seen him, you think. You were wrong about his acting capabilities: if you didn’t know better, you’d think he was actually desperately in love with you. But you know better. 

Then you notice it. The man watching you, with such a look of disgust, that it seems as if he holds a personal grudge against you. From what you can gather, he fits the profile, at least at first glance. 

You need to seal the deal. Make him really want you and Spencer dead, more so than any other couple here. Looking up at Spencer, you slowly form a plan. 

“Just go with what I’m about to do, okay?” you mutter quietly, and he nods with a slightly confused look on his face. 

You slip your arm around his neck and pull him down into a kiss. He freezes for a second, before kissing you back with such passion you spend a split second wondering if this is really acting. Not that you can focus on that small detail for long. You’re far too distracted by Spencer’s lips. He’s a good kisser. A very good kisser. And kissing him feels like coming home, like all the cliches and the love songs promised. You don’t know who starts it but you’re full on making out with him, your best friend, the man you love. If this is all you’ll ever get of Spencer, at least you’ll have the memory of this moment. 

A shadow falls over the two of you, you barely notice. You aren’t sure how much time has passed. 

“Okay lovebirds, drinks are here.” Morgan’s voice breaks the moment, and you disentangle yourself from Spencer. 

You look at Morgan. He’s practically laughing, you can see the mirth in his eyes. You’re also at least ninety per cent sure that photographic evidence of the makeout session between you and Spencer has already been sent to Penelope. Great. You nod at him and he leaves with a chuckle. 

“What…” Spencer looks at you but trails off. 

“Oh, um, there was this guy -- I think he was the UNSUB -- watching us, so I figured we could put on a show for him, so that he chooses to target us. Sorry I didn’t tell you beforehand but I wanted to make sure he saw.” You murmur shyly, not wanting to look at Spencer. You didn’t want to see how annoyed he would be about the kiss the two of you shared. 

“That makes sense. I thought… uh, nevermind.” He seems unsure of what to say, and you feel the same. “But Y/N? You’re a pretty good kisser, you know.” 

Your heart stops once again. What does that even mean?

\---------------------

The UNSUB breaks into your room that night, as predicted. Instead of a happy couple, he’s greeted with several FBI agents with guns pointed straight at him. The game is over, you and Reid are officially relieved of your undercover status. 

“I don’t understand… They were FBI agents? They can’t be. There’s no way they were undercover agents. I saw a lot of happy couples around here, I’ve killed a lot of happy couples. But I’ve never seen anyone as in love as they are.” The UNSUB mutters over and over. 

You don’t quite know what to say about that. Sure, you weren’t acting, but Reid was. Clearly, the man is a good actor. 

\-------------------

The flight home is awkward. You don’t know how to separate the case from real life. You don’t quite know how you’re meant to go back to Y/N and Spencer, after being Louisa and Simon. How do you put all those feelings back into their little boxes, when the feelings are ten times stronger than they were before? 

You fell in love with Reid all over again on this case, and he won’t even look at you now. 

He’s sitting away from you, clearly avoiding you. He won’t even look in your direction. You had tried to speak to him on the way to the airport but he ignored every attempt you made. 

It hurts. He doesn’t love you. 

You don’t quite know how your friendship is supposed to go back to normal after this. You were already rocky before the case and this whole fake romance thing has done nothing but upset the status quo once again. 

You just want to sleep in his arms again. 

He ignores your offer of a ride back to your building. He avoids you on the elevator, choosing to take the stairs instead. He won’t even look at you. 

Sitting in your apartment, you wonder if he’s going to show up tonight. It’s getting late, almost midnight. He’d normally be here or you’d normally be there by now. He’s not here. You’re not there. The anticipation is killing you. 

Suddenly, a text. You scramble for your phone, wondering if it’s him. It is. He doesn’t want you to come over. 

Rejection hurts like a bitch. Is your friendship irrevocably broken from this case? You don’t know. 

You’re overwhelmed; Spencer’s silence combined with the past few days is all too much for you. Crying softly, you wish the past few days were real with your entire being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi sorry for being away for so long i was in the hospital LMAO things are fine but I couldn't write while I was there
> 
> anyways ill be updating but probs a lot slower than I had been before, no more daily updates for now :(


	20. radio silence and miscommunications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one where Reid doesn't know how to navigate social situations properly, or: the one where y/n and Reid are both idiots when it comes to each other

Things are less than good following the undercover case. You feel like all that progress, all those months of friendship you’d worked so hard on, had evaporated just like that. Originally you’d thought that perhaps he just needed a moment to separate the case from real life, but that didn’t seem to be what was happening here. A whole week of him ignoring you, of him not coming to you at night, of him not even looking at you. It was as if you’d ceased to exist in the world of Spencer Reid.

You’d sit there in the office, desks merely feet apart, and it was as if that short distance spanned miles. Everyone had noticed the ice cold mood that had overtaken the warmth that was your friendship, but no one said anything, Morgan would look between the two of you, and shake his head. Emily would shoot you sympathetic looks. Hotch looks at the two of you warily, as if you’re moments away from reigniting the feud that seems so distant in your past. 

Sure, it had taken a moment for you to separate the fact from the fiction, to realise that he wasn’t in love with you, to realise that everything that had happened between the two of you was smoke and mirrors and deception. But you’d placed everything into the neat little boxes that was your love for Spencer, and you were ready to move on. Or at least, that’s what you’d told yourself. 

You wonder what Spencer is thinking. Did you push him too far on the case? Was kissing him the wrong thing to do? He’s probably disgusted with you for that move. You’re just a friend to him, not someone he wants to be making out with. 

He kissed you back. 

It was just acting, being caught up in the moment. 

You wonder if the people around you know that your kiss with Spencer is always on your mind. Always. If that is all you’ll ever get from him, you’re glad it happened. You don’t think you’d be able to live without knowing what it was like to kiss Spencer Reid. How pathetic you sound.

If only he’d look at you again. The motion sickness you feel at the sudden shift in your relationship has you reeling. Things are moving so fast and you wonder when you’ll feel like you’re on solid ground again. You’d finally accepted your feelings for him, accepted that they’ll never come to pass, accepted that him being your best friend is as far as your relationship will go. It turns out, Spencer doesn’t exactly feel the same way. 

You’re not sleeping, your bed feeling far too big and far too cold. You’re exhausted, and you’re pretty sure it shows. The bag under your eyes get darker and you drink more coffee and you almost fall asleep at your desk more than you’d care to admit. You wish that you could keep the fact that you’re falling to pieces away from the workplace, but how can you? The reason you’re feeling less than a person is sitting metres away from you. He’s inescapable. He’s a ghost, haunting you everywhere you go and yet you’re unable to reach out and touch him. 

Week two of radio silence between you and Reid has Morgan acting up. He seemed happy enough to try at let the two of you resolve the issues you were having last week, but it seems his patience has run out. You don’t blame him; you’re sick of it too. 

“So, Pretty Boy, are you finally going to tell us why you’re pretending Y/N doesn’t exist? Did she break your heart or something? Wait, did she tell you to shut up when you went on some rant about Star Trek? Because if that’s the case, she was probably right!” He laughs, throwing a pen at Reid to get his attention. 

You sigh. You’d very much like to be anywhere other than the bullpen right now. You glance up at Emily and she shoots you another sympathetic look. Are you that transparent? Do they realise that you’re desperately in love with Spencer, or do they just think you’re upset about the fracture in the friendship between the two of you. It’s hard to tell. 

“Shut up, Morgan. I don’t have to talk to her if I don’t want to. And I don’t.” Reid snaps, before getting up from his desk and storming off. 

You watch as he leaves. A part of you wonders where he’s going. Another part wonders if he knows how deeply his words cut. Just breathe. Don’t let anybody see how hurt you are. 

“Fucking hell, what happened between you guys? I don’t I’ve seen you guys be all weird with each other in like a year. And to think I thought the two of you would be even more head over heels for each other after that last case.” Emily shakes her head, seemingly shocked at Spencer’s outburst. 

You say nothing. You don’t know why he’s acting like this. You wish he wasn’t. 

\---------------------

The next day, you get some reprieve from the awkwardness in the bullpen by escaping to Penelope’s office. She always has some words of wisdom when things get tough. And things have never been tougher. It will be good to talk to someone who actually knows what’s going on between you and Spencer, the love you have for him, the details of your friendship. As much as you hate to admit it, you’d kind of been avoiding Penelope; you didn’t think you were ready to hear her gushing over how perfect you and Spencer would be together. Especially with things being how they are. Nonetheless, you were ready for whatever advice she had for you.

“Hi, Pen,” you say quietly as you walk into her office, “Have you got a moment?” 

“For you, sugar plum, I have all the moments in the world. Sit down, we really need to talk. How are you holding up? I know things between you and Boy Genius are not exactly sunshine and rainbows right now.” She smiles at you sympathetically. 

“Yeah… I don’t even know why he’s ignoring me, or why he’s mad, and that’s the worst part. Why can’t he just tell me what I did wrong? Did I upset him that bad on the case? Is the idea of being with me that awful that now he can’t even look at me?” There are tears in your eyes.

“Angel cakes, you’ve got to stop thinking so negatively about yourself. I’m not going to tell you things Reid’s told me, because that’s private, but I really don’t think he’s mad at you. The two of you are just terrible communicators when it comes to each other. The case… I think he’s just taking a while to process that, you know? As smart as Reid is, social situations are not his forte. Give him time, okay?” Penelope reaches out to grab your hand. You burst into tears. 

“I just… It hurts so much. Why do I feel like my heart’s breaking? I miss him so badly and the worst part is that he isn't even gone. He’s literally right here and yet he’s a thousand miles away.” You’re sobbing now, finally letting out the emotions you’ve been keeping in all week. 

“Angel cakes, I -- Reid. This isn’t a good time, can you come back later?” Penelope’s eyes widen as she looks behind you. 

Surely enough, Reid is standing in the door way. This week could not get any worse. He’s standing there and you’re here crying over him. Did he hear anything? You don’t think you said anything that would give the game away but you’re panicking. He has to know you’re crying over him. God, how embarrassing. 

He’s looking at you. For the first time in over a week, he’s looking at you. And he has the strangest look on his face. You don’t quite know what to make of it. Wiping your eyes, you look back at him, almost begging him to say something. He doesn’t, not to you anyways.

“Um… Sorry, Garcia. I didn’t realise I was interrupting something. I’ll come back later this afternoon.” He states quietly, not looking away from your face. 

He stays another moment, watching you. You wonder if he’s going to say something, anything. He doesn’t, choosing to leave abruptly instead. 

What are you even meant to think? He just saw you crying over him. Even Reid, who’s so awful at social situations, has to know that you were sobbing over his actions. He said nothing. Maybe he didn’t want to say anything in front of Penelope. You hope that’s the case. Otherwise, that has to signify that he truly doesn’t care about you. 

This whole situation serves as yet another painful reminder that he doesn’t love you back. 

You cry some more and Penelope sits there with you, saying nothing. 

\-------------

You have a clearer head, once you get home from work. You’ve realised that your and Spencer’s not-relationship might have just broken up. Somehow, it feels worse than any other breakup you’ve been through. Why does the potential ending of a year long friendship with someone you love hurt more than the bitter end of a three year relationship? 

Regardless, you decide to wallow in the typical post breakup fashion: eating ice cream for dinner and watching your favourite films. It makes you feel slightly better, but a part of you is remembering how many times you’ve sat on that couch watching bad tv with Spencer fucking Reid and how much you miss it.

He’s ruined you completely and he doesn’t even know it. You wonder if he’s thinking of you, missing you, wanting you. Probably not. 

Stop thinking about him. You can’t stop thinking about him.

You’re lost in your thoughts of him and missing him and wanting so badly to forget about him that you almost don’t hear the knock on the door. 

Almost, but not quite.

You’re hoping it’s him. You don’t think it is, but you remain hopeful. Your heart is beating so fast. Breathe. You cautiously make your way to the door, both hopeful and terrified and so unsure of yourself. Suddenly you realise you’re in his clothes; why did you choose his clothes to wear out of all the stolen sweats you could have chosen?

You slowly open the door, not even looking through the peephole first. You can’t bear the tension. 

It’s him. God, it’s him, and he’s standing there, and he’s looking at you with that same look as before. You could swear that he almost looks as hurt as you feel. Time stops. What do you say? What are you supposed to say in this kind of situation? You aren’t sure. 

“Y/N… I, I don’t. I’m not good at this.” He starts, and you’re terrified of what he might say.

“Spencer, why are you here? After everything this past week, why are you here?” Your voice cracks and you beg yourself not to cry in front of him again. 

“I’m stupid. I’m an idiot and I messed up so awfully. I’m not, I’m not good at social situations like you are. I didn’t know how to compartmentalise everything that happened on that case, because honestly that case was terrifying for me, and I shut you out because I didn’t know how I was supposed to act. I know I hurt you, and for that I’m so sorry. It wasn’t my intention, but I know I treated you terribly,” Spencer looks so upset and in that moment you realise that Penelope was right, he doesn’t hate you, not a little bit, not at all. “Garcia said that chocolates or flowers or something were appropriate as an apology gift, but I think this probably would make you more inclined to forgive me, right?” 

You look, and in his hands is his stupid Cal-Tech hoodie, the one you fought over all those months ago, the one you wanted and the one he wouldn’t give up. He’s right, this means everything to you. You’re tearing up now, only you would get emotional over a man giving you a hoodie.

“Spencer, we’re best friends. You can’t just shut me out when you don’t know how to deal with things. You’ve gotta talk to me. I can’t just read your mind and know that you’re struggling. Friends, friends help each other out.” He looks almost devastated and you sigh. You don’t want to be mad at him anymore. 

You grab his hand and pull him into the apartment. You can see the hesitation on Spencer’s face, but he lets you drag him over to the couch. Smiling up at him, you snatch the hoodie from his hands and quickly put it on. You try not to think about how sweet the gesture is, how well he knows you, how maybe this is a sign that he really does care for you in the way you care for him. 

“Are you staying? I’ve missed you being here.” You whisper to him. You’re both sitting on the couch but there’s a distance between you, the troubles between you not entirely forgotten yet. He’s hesitating, you can tell. 

“I… do you really want me to? After everything that I’ve put you through this week?” He’s quiet too. The silence is deafening. The tension is not yet broken entirely. 

“Spencer… I always want you here. I think our problem is that as much as we try, we’re horrible at communicating with each other. Maybe we should try to be more open with each other. You’re my best friend, I can’t deal with us not speaking like this again.” You’re such a hypocrite, wanting openness but refusing to tell him you love him. 

“You’re… my best friend too. I wish I was a better friend to you.” He sighs. You hate how sad he looks. 

“Look, lets just watch some bad television and then go to bed, okay?” You suggest, shifting yourself slightly closer to him. 

He nods, and moves closer as you click the television onto some low budget science fiction film from the eighties. The bridge between you finally closes, and you find yourself in his arms again, watching the film in silence. You’re not paying attention; you’re more focused on the fact that Spencer Reid is here, with you, and you’re in his arms again. You’re more focused on the fact that you’ve missed him so much and you’re finally reunited and things might just be headed back to the way they were. You’re more focused on the fact that watching bad television with Spencer Reid is how you want to spend the rest of your life. 

In this moment, you have everything you could ever want and it terrifies you, for it’s not yours to have. He’s not yours. 

You head to bed not long after the credits roll, too tired from the outpouring of emotion earlier in the evening. The idea of being in a bed with Spencer again is both comforting and petrifying to you. You might finally get some sleep, and you get to be close to him again. But you cant stop thinking about his lips on yours, the way he tastes, his large hands wrapped around your waist, how it felt to be loved by him, even if none of it was real. 

Shit. Stop thinking about it. 

You can’t stop thinking about it. 

The first chance you get, you excuse yourself to the bathroom. You need a moment to get your head on straight. You and Spencer Reid will never be more than friends. You repeat it over and over in your head as you watch yourself in the mirror. The girl staring back at you looks suspiciously happy, wrapped up in a large hoodie. It smells like him; coffee and vanilla, old books and leather. Stop thinking about how he smells. 

You’re craving a cigarette. Stop smoking, Spencer doesn’t like it. 

He smiles at you so sweetly once you exit the bathroom. God, you love him and his smile. You never want him to stop smiling at you again. 

The two of you slowly get into bed. The two of you are cautious, hesitant at first after so long apart. You aren’t sure who made the first move, but you end up in his arms once again. It’s like coming home. You wonder if he knows how your life revolves around him and his presence at this point. Sleeping with him is one of the only things that feels right these days, when everything else feels like it’s on fire. 

You’re falling asleep fast; you haven’t slept properly in too long. Before you slip into a deep sleep, you’re pretty sure he kisses your forehead and mutters something you can’t quite hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back at uni so im thinking updates will probably be like Mondays and Fridays? we'll see if I can stick to a schedule. its a surprise for all of us


	21. drunk talk and forgotten words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> y/n has a lot to say after some tequila

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all about to hate me for this one LMAO

Sometimes, you feel like your team truly embodies the work hard, play hard mantra. Because really, when the group of you get together for a night out, things deteriorate real fast. You’re pretty sure you drink more on nights out now than you did in college, and that’s saying something. Sure, it might start pretty calmly, incredible italian food at Rossi’s and wine, but once you head to the bar -- normally leaving Hotch and Rossi behind -- the shots start coming and they don’t stop until the early hours of the morning. 

And so, you find yourself on the dance floor of some new trendy bar you don’t know the name of. You’re dancing with Emily and laughing at the amount of male attention the two of you seem to be attracting tonight. 

“So, are you sure you don’t want to take any of these men home with you? Or are you and mystery man still doing the whole exclusive friends with benefits thing?” You shout over the music. 

“God, have you seen the men in here? Definitely not up to our standards. And yes, we’re still fucking exclusively. I’d ask you the same, but you’ve been making googly eyes at a certain someone all evening!” Emily cries back, nodding her head towards the table where Reid is sat, awkwardly drinking his water. 

“Someone’s clearly drank too much if you think that’s happening! Do I need to remind you what the definition of best friends is?” You roll your eyes at her. You’re thinking of kissing Spencer again. Stop that. 

Emily laughs at you and the two of you head over to the bar in an attempt to score free drinks. Just because you’d never go home with the men here, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t exploit the opportunity for free alcohol. After a little persuasion, some guy called Eric or Evan buys you some shots, and you quickly make your escape back to the table, tray of shots in hand. 

“Shots are here! Big thanks to the guy I flirted with for five minutes for the free drinks!” You laugh to Penelope. She giggles back at you, but out of the corner of your eyes you see Reid clench his jaw. 

“Spencer, do you have something against free drinks?” You grin at him, hoping that he’ll stop being annoyed soon. You hate it when he’s unhappy. 

“I just think you should maybe raise your standards a little higher than some creep at a bar is all. You’re better than that.” He mutters, not looking at you. 

“Aw is Pretty Boy jealous that Y/N isn’t flirting with him? Come on now Y/N, give the boy some loving!” Morgan laughs loudly, as Reid continues to stare at his water. 

“Morgan, shut up and drink.” Emily orders, coming back to the table with a ridiculous amount of tequila for the group. 

As the night draws to a close, you find yourself getting bored of the bar. It had been a long evening and you’d probably drank close to an entire bottle of tequila alone. It was a miracle the bar even had any left by midnight. You wanted to go back to Spencer’s apartment and be with him for a while. 

“Spencer, take me home. I’m sleepy.” You sigh, grabbing onto his arm. 

“Ooh, does that mean Pretty Boy’s getting lucky tonight?” Morgan laughs and Penelope punches him in the arm. 

“Of course not, do you see how drunk she is? She’ll be asleep before they even get back to their apartment complex.” Penelope rolls her eyes and you nod sleepily. 

Carefully, Spencer helps you out of your seat and leads you outside to wait for a cab. You lean against him and he wraps his arms around you. 

“You’re always so warm, Spence. You’re like my sun, you know?” You aren’t facing him, but you’re pretty sure he’s smiling. He always smiles at the silly things you say. 

“The sun is a lot warmer than I am. A good twenty seven million degrees warmer than me.” He whispers into your hair.

“No, it’s because you’re a constant in my life, you know? A good constant. The best kind of constant. We’re forever, you and me.” You mumble, hoping to make some kind of sense. 

“Nothing lasts forever, Y/N. Even the sun will burn out and fade away one day. Granted, not for another five billion years, but everything dies eventually.” He holds you just a little tighter. 

“Okay, it’s you and me for the next five billion years then.” You laugh, turning slightly to face him. You love him and his smile; you were right about him smiling at you. 

“Five billion years with you sounds good to me, Y/N.” He looks at you so intensely that your breath catches. 

The tension breaks. A cab pulls up, and Spencer carefully maneuvers you inside. You spend the cab ride holding his hand in yours, head on his shoulder. You could spend forever, or five billion years, like this.

Everything ends, especially cab rides. You unsteadily pull yourself out of the car, grabbing on to Spencer for support. Just like he does at the end of every night out with the team, he carefully leads you to his apartment, gives you clothes to wear, water to drink, blankets to keep you warm. 

“Spence, stay up with me for a while, I don’t think I can sleep yet.” You’re watching the sky out the window, wishing you could see the stars. 

“Are you sure? You seemed pretty tired before at the bar and I-” He starts, but you cut him off. 

“Shh, that was just to get out of there with you, silly! I miss you when we’re with other people.” You laugh at him, surely he knew that you just wanted to be alone with him. 

“You can’t miss me when I’m right there, Y/N. That doesn’t make any sense at all.” He looks confused, so you move closer towards him. 

“No, you’re wrong. I miss you all the time. Out there you’re Dr. Reid or Agent Reid or, or whatever. Here, here you’re just my Spencer. I wish, I wish, I wish that it could be like this all the time. What we have is, is special. Am I making sense?” You take hold of his hand and look at it carefully. 

You love his hands, so large and gentle. You can’t look him in the eyes, if you look him in the eyes then he’ll know, and you can’t let him know. There’s a reason for that, but you can’t quite remember it.

“I… you’re making sense, Y/N.” He mumbles. You’re pretty sure he’s got that intense look on his face but you don’t want to look at him right now. 

“If you’re the sun, I think that makes me... the solar system. Because, like everything revolves around you, it does! At least it does for me. I don’t know who or where or what I’d be without you. I’d be lost floating through life and space, and metaphors are confusing. I don’t know. I guess I’m just saying that you mean so much to me, you know that, right? That you’re everything to me? I don’t think I’m meant to tell you that, but I have so many things I want to tell you and it’s driving me insane because I just -- I just can’t live without you.” You’re rambling and staring at his hands because you can’t look at his face, you can’t see the look of dismay, the look of rejection, the look of disappointment. 

What have you done? The cat’s out of the bag now, surely it is. He doesn’t say anything. Why isn’t he speaking? God, he must hate you now, now that he knows, he must. 

“You really feel like that about me? This isn’t some… joke?” He’s whispering and you’re still scared to look at his face. You nod, gripping on to his hands tightly.   
“I’m in love with you, did you know?” He says, slightly louder, and your eyes widen.

“I… I think I’ve been in love with you since you stole that dilaudid out of my satchel, you know. I… you were the only one to really confront me about it and offer help. I didn’t know it, not for a while. I just knew I wanted to be close to you, to be your friend. I didn’t really understand it, I’m bad at reading situations and reading social cues, i know that. But then it clicked. Then, suddenly I had this realisation, just before that Halloween when I took you home that you, you’re it for me. I love you and… there’s no way you’re going to remember any of this in the morning, is there?” You’re looking up at him now and the raw emotion on his face makes you want to cry. That strange expression he was always looking at you with, it is because he loves you. 

He loves you and you didn’t even realise it.

“No, no, I’ll remember, I promise I’ll remember it. Because I’m in love with you, Spencer Reid. I am, I really am.” There are tears streaming down your face now. 

He loves you. You love him. You’re both in love. 

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted. 

“You won’t remember, but it’s okay. I’ll tell you again, someday. I don’t think either of us are really ready to hear it yet. After all, you had to be incredibly drunk to say anything, and I only felt comfortable sharing because I knew you’d likely remember nothing tomorrow. We’ll get there, one day. Tonight isn’t right, I don’t think. We’re an unfinished novel, but one day we’ll write the rest of the pages.” He’s holding you in his arms and there’s no where else you’d rather be. 

He slowly leads you to the bedroom, and you slowly get into bed, and you slowly place yourself back into his arms. The same routine as always but it feels so different right now. Because now, there are no secrets between you. Now, you know everything and he knows everything and it’s as if nothing could stop the two of you now. 

You give him a chaste kiss, mumble that you love him, and promptly fall asleep. 

\-------------

You wake up with a killer migraine and a deep hatred of tequila. Like many of the nights out you’ve shared with the team, you really aren’t sure how you got home or even what happened after a certain point. You remember asking Reid to take you home, but it all goes fuzzy after that. You’re almost certain you said something stupid, and you hope that you didn’t mess up the fragile nature of your friendship so soon after fixing it again. 

Spencer’s holding onto you tightly, you realise. One hand around your waist, another wrapped in your hair. Extracting yourself without waking him seems difficult, so you continue to lie there with him. You might not be able to be with him, but you can pretend, just for a moment, anyways. 

Slowly, you feel him wake up behind you. Normally, he’d roll out of bed pretty quickly, off to make coffee or to shower or do whatever it is geniuses do. Today, he makes a sound as if he’s about to leave you but instead holds you tighter. You breathe in and you breathe out and try to stay calm about the way Spencer Reid is clinging on to you. Maybe you didn’t say anything bad last night. 

“Good morning, Y/N, how are you feeling?” He mumbles into your hair, clearly half asleep still. 

“I think I’m dying. Stop me from drinking so much tequila next time please.” You croak out, and you can hear him chuckling softly to himself. 

“I doubt that you’d listen to me if I tried to take your alcohol away from you.” You can feel him smiling. Why is he so happy this morning?

Did you… No, surely not. You’d remember it if you’d told him you love him, right? Think, think harder. You remember, dancing, drinking, asking Spencer to take you home. You barely remember standing waiting for a cab… words were said, but you don’t remember them. Holding hands in the taxi. Getting to his apartment. Watching the stars for some reason. And then… you crawled into bed with him. 

Nothing happened. 

“Can we get coffee? I’m in desperate need of coffee.” You groan and he almost reluctantly loosens his grip on you. 

You move slowly into the kitchen and begin the arduous task of brewing coffee. Spencer comes in behind you and stretches over you to grab the mugs that you can never quite reach. He’s so close to you today. You’re curious, but a part of you desperately loves the fact that he is. As you drink your mugs of coffee, you watch him. He’s giving you the strangest look, almost calculating. It starts to put you on edge. What did you do? 

“Spencer, did I do something stupid last night?” You ask cautiously.You aren’t sure if you want to know his answer. 

“Well, what do you remember? You tell me what you think happened and I’ll… fill in the gaps.” He says with a sad smile. Why is he sad all of a sudden?

You tell him everything you recall. He smiles, but it’s that sad smile that don’t quite understand. God, you’re never drinking around him again, not if you’re going to black out every time. 

“You didn’t do anything ridiculous, not at all. Perhaps you were a bit rambly and talking about things that only make sense to yourself, but you were fine. You’re always fine. I promise.” He’s looking at you with that strange look and you’re still not convinced.

“Spencer… What did I say? Tell me everything.” You practically order, wincing at the potential damage you might have caused.

“You just… you spoke a lot about the sun, and the solar system, and the stars. You were very into space last night.” He looks down at his mug. “But you didn’t say anything of great importance, I promise.” 

Breathe. You didn’t confess your undying love for him. Breathe. Your secrets are safe. 

\---------------------

And so life goes on. Life goes on, but something has shifted again. Your relationship with Spencer seems… different. It’s as if something shifted that night, but you don’t know what. He seems calmer and more at ease with you. You knew you were the exception to Spencer’s aversion to human contact anyways, but he becomes so tactile with you. Holding your hand, playing with your hair, hand around your waist, holding you ever so slightly closer than he usually would. 

You don’t mind, not at all, but the profiler within you is suspicious. Why is his behaviour so different all of a sudden? You’re pretty sure something happened between the two of you that night, you just don’t know what. 

But what good does stressing about what-if’s do? You decide to let it go and just enjoy the time you spend with Spencer. 

You find yourself lying with him on the couch one day, watching infomercials for products you’d never buy. Spencer seems restless, and you wonder what’s going on with him, for the fourth time that day. 

“Spencer, are you good? Is something wrong?” You ask softly, reaching out and grabbing his hand. It’s so much bigger than your own.

“I guess I’m just thinking about the relationships we have with people. How you’re the person closest to me. Sometimes it surprises me how adamantly we disliked each other, only a few years ago. It makes me wonder what the future holds for us, you know?” He sighs, looking at the television but not watching it.   
“I think about that a lot too. Sometimes our relationship is so confusing to me. I think we’re like a puzzle, except some of the pieces have been lost or removed, so things aren’t entirely complete yet. We still have some growing to do, to find those lost pieces to make everything make sense.” You say whimsically but underneath you’re still so uncertain about where whatever is happening between you and Reid is going. 

“Cookie dough, I think. We’re like cookie dough that hasn’t finished baking yet. One day we’ll be fully formed cookies and things will make sense to us both.” He smiles, giving you a look you still don’t understand. 

Cookies and puzzles aside, you wonder if your friendship with Spencer is growing into something more. Could it be? After all this time? 

The idea terrifies you and electrifies you. Cookie dough. You’re not ready yet, and this conversation has made you realise that. You need to get over your own insecurities before you can truly throw yourself in to some sort of relationship with Spencer Reid. 

You wonder what your relationship will be when you’re fully formed cookies, when the puzzle is finally completed. You don’t know; you’re hoping for romance but if all you can get is a true and solid life long friendship then you think that might be a livable life. 

You’ll take whatever pain you have to for Spencer Reid. 

\----------------

You wake up in his arms one morning and while it’s earlier than you’d have liked, you’re ready for coffee. It’s then you notice that he’s once again holding onto you as if your his lifeline. It’s almost as if he’s afraid you’re going to leave him without warning. It’s sweet, it really is, and you thrive of being wrapped up in his arms for as long as you possibly can. It’s the thing that gets you through the day. But right now, coffee is more important. 

Slowly you try to extract yourself from his close grip around your waist. You almost think you’ve done it without waking him, except at the last moment he pulls you back to him. You’re in his arms once again, not exactly something to complain about. 

“Don’t leave, I need you.” He mumbles sleepily, and you’re not sure he’s entirely awake. 

I need you. What does that mean? How do you even unpack that? 

I need you. He wants you, you’re not sure in what way, but he wants you. 

Maybe you’re as essential to him as he is to you. 

You’re entirely confused by the situation, but you let yourself settle back in his arms and fall back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... Spencer knows.... y/n remains oblivious as ever ..... it would be a shame if she... finally figured things out ... maybe next chapter....


	22. men down and bad timings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hotch is missing, reid gets shot, y/n finally thinks she's ready

Sometimes, your job sucks. Like really sucks. The case in Canada affected you far more than you’d care to admit. Eighty nine people dead. Two victims who lived, but is living with the horrors of the case for the rest of your life any better than death? You aren’t quite sure how you or the team are supposed to compartmentalise this one. The jet ride home was totally silent. You might have solved the case, caught the UNSUB, saved a victim from a horrific death, but it wasn’t a win. It just was. 

You just want to go home, you just want to be in Spencer’s arms again, you just want to shut the world, the BAU, the horrors out. You just want to be Y/N and Spencer, locked in your apartments watching awful television and ordering take out and sleeping in each others arms. Yes, you love him. No, he doesn’t know. 

Everybody has their coping mechanisms, yours just happens to be Spencer Reid. 

The two of you have sleep down to an art; you in clothes he lets you steal from him -- he’s resigned to the fact that you practically own his casual wardrobe now -- him in sweatpants, both of you wrapped up in each other’s arms. This, to you, is peace. This, to you, is the only escape you will ever get from the murder and the rape and the torture of the outside world. Spending all your free time in the arms of the man that you very secretly love. 

You’re going to tell him. One day. You’re going to tell him. On the jet home, after all that horror, you think that perhaps telling him sooner rather than later is the better idea. What if something happened to him? Could you live with him never knowing that loved him with your whole heart, your entire soul, every inch of your being? Probably not. 

Too soon, a buzzing wakes you. Spencer’s phone -- the one he uses solely for work and occasionally texting the team. Technophobe. You stay quiet, irrationally scared that whoever is on the other end will know that you’re there, in his bed, still wrapped around him. 

“JJ? Already? No, I’ll go and let her know, she’s… she’s only downstairs. Okay. Be there soon.” He mumbles into the phone, still half asleep. 

“Spence, what’s happening now? We don’t get five minutes off before they call us in for some other bullshit case?” You groan reluctantly moving away from his warmth. 

“Don’t know, JJ didn’t exactly say, just that it’s an emergency and we all need to get there ASAP. If we’re quick we have time for coffee before leaving, it would take me approximately twenty two minutes and fifty six seconds to get ready and wake you up before we leave so… coffee?” He gives you the soft smile he seems to reserve solely for you and your heart melts. 

“Coffee it is, Doctor Reid.”  
\------------

Even with the coffee break, you and Spencer arrive before the rest of the team, leaving JJ to lead you upstairs to an apartment building. You survey the scene as Spencer speeds through the casefiles. He’ll know every detail pertaining to the case before you finish circling the body looking for any evidence as to what the situation is. The team arrives, introductions are made, information is disseminated.

It’s a sloppy murder, seemingly average as far as murders go, not one that the BAU would usually be called in to deal with. But the essential detail that makes this case special is the letter to a Dr Barton, threatening his son and the murders of others in the place of his son. The only connection between that and the letter are the initials LC on both the letter and at each crime scene, clearly the UNSUB’s signature. 

You’re trying to pay attention to the crime and the crime scene and force yourself to be fully in profiler mode, but you can’t keep your eyes of Spencer. He looks more tired than usual, but he’s so pretty in that oddly specific way of his. Snap out of it. Stop looking like you’re in love with Spencer and more like you’re analysing the case. The case is important. Spencer is more important. Focus. 

The doctor’s home proves unhelpful so far, with him having little clue as to who would go so far as to murder every day until they get to the surgeon’s son. Of course, the case would run smoother if Jeffery hadn’t run off to school, leaving him vulnerable to the UNSUB. 

The team panics for a second, and then a plan falls into place. JJ, Rossi and Morgan head to the school; their plan of action being to keep Jeffery in and any potential killer out. You stay with Emily and Reid, working though endless amounts of case files and patients and surgeries, Even with Reid’s speed reading abilities, the work ahead of you is tremendous.

As you’re trying to get any viable information out of Dr Barton, you hear Reid on the phone with Garcia. 

“Has Hotch checked in with you?” You glance over, concerned for your boss. “He’s probably on his way.” 

Something about Hotch not being here doesn’t sit well with you, but admittedly you’re already distracted this case. After all, you can’t stop focusing in on Spencer. It’s ridiculous, how many thoughts you have about him constantly. Perhaps you’re odd feelings about Hotch not being here are related to the lack of sleep. Then maybe you can blame your Spencer fixation on the lack of sleep too. 

It’s totally, most definitely a lack of sleep. 

“Let’s start with the note, for starter, we know that he’s male.” Spencer states, to which Barton looks confused, and makes that known. 

“Women tend to add adjectives, and very specific details to their notes.” Emily informs. 

“Also men are more direct --” you point out, and Spencer practically finishes your thought for you.

“First sentence: I plan to kill your son.”

Emily gives the two of you a look, as if she hadn’t realised how in sync you and Reid are these days. Even though you hide the extent of your friendship, everyone notices that the two of you barely need words to communicate anymore, that you finish each other’s thoughts with ease, that the fighting you’d do years ago seems almost crazy looking at your behaviours now. 

“Male notes, they tend to be more about themselves than the person they’re writing to.” Emily informs him. 

“I watched you every day.” Spencer starts. 

“I will watch you lose everything.” You follow. 

Emily is watching too intently. If anyone were to figure things out, it would be her. You need to avert her attention off you and Reid and the way the two of you interact like two halves of a whole. 

“We know he surveilled you and your son which means he has enough money to be away from a regular job or he’s currently unemployed.” Reid mentions and you nod along.

“He’s probably a father, a grieving one at that, and he clearly wants to make you feel the same pain he does.” Emily profiles, giving the group of you a starting point. 

“Let’s start with cases involving teenagers killed, but also anyone with a strong family presence.” Reid begins. “Just because your son is fifteen, it doesn’t necessarily mean that his child is the same age.”

“Have you had many cases like this?” Barton asks. No, he begs, begs for an answer.

Shit. You hate it when they ask these kinds of questions, because these are the answers they never truly want to know, never truly need to know. 

“Suicide by cop seems to be an effective way to make their point, while ending their suffering all at once.” Spencer finally states after a tense moment of silence. You’re not sure if his answering makes the situation worse or better. 

Barton is freaking out. Five hours, at least one hundred case files. It’s doable but Barton is cracking under the pressure. Most civilians do. You know better by this point. A lot can happen in a matter of hours. 

Emily offers to go find Hotch, wherever he might be, that another pair of eyes is always handy. You agree; not to mention having your boss show up after being unreachable has you far too on edge. Or maybe its Spencer, and the weird shift in your dynamic recently. It’s both. 

Barton starts asking questions, questions of the unproductive kind, questioning the team and the longevity of their investigation. 

“Let’s just get through today.” Spencer tells him, and internally you repeat that as some kind of mantra. Let’s just get through today. Why does today feel like there’s a storm cloud raging over it, like rain is about to start pouring any second, like lightning is about to strike?

You hate this feeling of impending doom. You’re never like this. Nevertheless, its not productive. Shake it off, and get through today. 

\------------------

It’s you who gets the call. The one nobody wants to get about anyone they know. Emily’s words barely even register. 

“What-- What are you talking about?” You get up and leave the room for a moment, making eyes at Spencer. He gets it. He knows something is seriously wrong.

In the background you can hear Barton starting to lose it on Spencer, talking about deadlines and his son. Fuck. You’d almost forgotten about the case with the news about Hotch.

“What could be more important than my son right now? You agents are running off all over the place and no one could give a crap about my son!” He’s almost yelling and Spencer is trying to placate him and all you can think about is that you were right to be concerned because something is seriously wrong. 

Emily gives you a rundown of the crime scene and the two of you try to theorise. A through and through in the wall. No drag marks. Was the body -- fuck, Hotch, it’s not a body it’s Hotch -- wrapped in something? Emily’s waiting on crime scene techs. You’re waiting on more news from Emily. Spencer is waiting to hear what’s actually going on from you. Barton is waiting to hear what’s happening with his son, with the actual case. Fuck. There’s no way you’re staying here to work this case. 

“Let me talk to Reid, I’ll probably come join you there; this seems like it’s a part of something far bigger than a bullet hole and some blood.”

“Are you sure, I’ve got it here.” Emily questions, but you’re set. Spencer is far more patient, far more capable of going through Barton’s files with him. You can’t focus on the files anyways anymore. You’re too busy running through possibilities of Hotch’s disappearance and who would do such a thing and how good Reid’s hair looks today. Fuck. 

“Spence,” You give him the wide eyed emergency look and he’s instantly on full alert as you make your way over to murmur in his ear. “Hotch is missing. It looks like a struggle took place at his apartment. I’m going to help Emily. Keep a lid on this, and carry on with Barton, okay? If anyone can crack this case, it’s you, Spence.” 

You smile tensely at Barton before briskly making your way out of the house. You can hear that Barton is incensed by everyone except Spencer leaving him, but really, who else is better equipped to sort through endless files other than Spencer. 

\-----------------

The crime scene, Hotch’s apartment, has you on edge. People have come after the team before but this… the not knowing, the mystery, the what-if’s of it all have your head spinning. You and Emily are intensely profiling the scene, going over anything you might have missed. The two of you are expects in the field, surely you can find something, anything that might give you some kind of clue, right?

This situation chills you to the bone. Because if someone wanted to come after the team, they could come after any of you. They could come after Spencer. All you want is the idyllic life you and Spencer have when it’s just the two of you in your apartments. And this just proves than an UNSUB could tear that life away from you in a moment, before anything even began. You need to tell Spencer you love him. You need to. You might not be fully baked cookies yet, but he needs to know how you feel. 

Garcia calls; the two of you freeze. She’d been calling hospitals, trying to find if Hotch had been admitted somewhere. That was what you’d been praying for; if Hotch was in a hospital then that means Hotch wasn’t dead. Hotch can’t die. He just can’t. 

“Hotch isn’t listed as a patient but someone dropped a John Doe off at St. Sebastian Hospital and that someone’s name was FBI Agent Derek Morgan.”

“It doesn’t make sense.” Emily looks stunned. 

“Do you think they got their credentials mixed up?” Garcia wonders, because none of this makes sense, nothing makes sense here. 

“The Reaper.” You don’t even recognise your own voice but suddenly things click into place, finally the missing piece is there. “Foyet… he took Morgan’s credentials before.”

Emily and you exchange looks. This doesn’t make sense. If Foyet came to attack Hotch, why would he let him live, let alone bring him to an ER? What does any of this mean? The two of you race towards the SUV, trying to find your way to Hotch as soon as possible. 

\-----------

“He was stabbed nine times but no major arteries were hit, it’s a miracle he’s alive.” The doctor tells you and Emily and you just stand and stare because that’s Hotch, lying there. Hotch, who’s always strong and stern in his suit but like the father figure you never really had. Hotch, who truly is the centre of this team and seeing him here, in this hospital bed, makes you want to cry. 

“When will he wake up?” Emily asks. She was always more pragmatic than you are. 

You’re told an hour, but that he’ll be out of it and you breathe a sigh of relief because he’s fine, he’s going to be fine. Emily stays to watch, and you make your way get some water and some shitty hospital coffee for you and Emily. You think you both need it after the intensity of the past few hours. 

When you get back Emily has an intense look on her face; she’s figured something out, and it looks like nothing good. 

“LC, it stands for Living Children.” She states down the phone. 

You, Emily and Spencer all realise it at the same time. Jeffery isn’t the target, not at all. It’s Barton himself, it’s always been about him. You mutter something to Emily and run back to the SUV because knowing Spencer, if something is about to go down he really should have some back up. You hear Emily calling for an ambulance and your heart stops. You literally cannot breathe. You couldn’t give a flying fuck about protocol, you have to be there. What if. What if. What if anything happens to Spencer. You can’t breathe. You know something happened. Something happened and if it happened to Spencer and Spencer isn’t there anymore then you don’t know how you’re supposed to live, supposed to breathe, supposed to survive without him. 

St Sebastian’s is close to the Barton household. You reach it just before the ambulances and other cops. You’re a horrible driver, mostly because you ignore the basic rules of driving. Speeding is the only way you know how to drive. You see the UNSUB, wounded on the floor, with Barton attending to him. You see Spencer. You see Spencer. 

You see Spencer. 

He’s wounded. Fuck. It’s as if someone has stabbed you in the stomach. You stop breathing for just a moment before running over to him.

“Spence, are you okay? Fuck. Fuck. What do I do, fuck, pressure? Spencer Reid, if you ever put me in one of these positions where you end up shot or hurt or whatever I’ll finish the job myself, I swear.” You’re holding onto him and he’s looking at you so intensely and you wonder if it’s because he’s in pain or if something else is going on here. The look between the two of you is so intense and you’re not sure how long it lasts.

Barton comes back over to the two of you; the moment breaks. He’s examining Spencer’s leg, the bullet went clean through. Spencer pushes him off to his son. You go back to holding on to Spencer’s leg as if it’s the only thing keeping you going. He’s alive. He’s going to be fine. You’re going to tell him you love him. 

“You’re always so worried about me, Y/N. Why?” He murmurs, clearly in pain. 

“Spencer, you know it’s because I’m--” You start but you’re cut off by the arrival of JJ and Morgan, checking to make sure Reid is fine. 

It’s okay, telling Spencer you’re deeply in love him and that you don’t think you’ll ever love another quite like him while he’s bleeding from a bullet wound probably isn't the appropriate time. Things will be fine here.

“We need to call Emily, guys. Something… something’s happened to Hotch.” You suddenly remember, having been all caught up in Spencer Reid. 

\-----------------

At the hospital, the team rushes off to see Hotch. You choose to stick around with Spencer, making some joke about him being accident prone but really just feeling as if you’ll fall apart if you aren’t around him right now. 

Spencer Reid is everything to you. You sit with him while they patch him up and give him low grade pain meds that will do absolutely nothing for the pain because he refuses anything else. You let him hold your hand so tightly while he processes the whole shooting. 

“Y/N… it could’ve been. It could have been so much worse.” He says so quietly you can barely hear him. 

“Spence, if it had been worse. If you’d; I don’t even want to talk about it.” Your voice breaks. 

“I’m fine, Y/N. You’re always so worried about me. I refuse to leave you, ever. Even if I died I’d come back as a ghost and haunt you for the rest of your days.” He smiles that special smile he only smiles for you and your heart breaks. 

Tell him. 

“Don’t even say the D word, Spencer. I don’t think I could ever live without you in my life, ever.” You rest your head against his shoulder, lying into him while avoiding his legs. 

“Y/N… Why?” He’s looking at you now, and its as if he’s begging you to say it. Oh, god. Does he feel the same? Is he waiting to reject you?

“Spencer you’ve got to know I’m --” You start once again looking at him as if he’s the only thing that matters, that has ever mattered, that will ever matter. 

“Y/N. There’s a situation and we need everyone available right now. We think Foyet is after Haley and Jack. Let’s go.” Morgan is at the door, looking grim and ready to run. 

You give Spencer one last look, one last smile and run off with Morgan to the next disaster in waiting. 

Maybe this was a sign, that today is the wrong day to tell Spencer that you’re hopelessly in love with him. Maybe the cookie dough is still too raw. 

One day, one day soon, you’re going to tell Spencer Reid that you love him. And hopefully, one day, he’ll say it back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will people stop interrupting y/n she's got important things to say smh
> 
> anyways I know I was trying to do a whole schedule thing but it turns out real life is hard and difficult and writing and school and ptsd are not a good combo so updates are going to be slow but this is not going to be abandoned I will finish this, its just going to be way slower than originally thought!!! defo 1000000% not abandoned u might just not hear from me for another month. hopefully less though xoxo Lou


	23. cohabitation and confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a doctors appointment and a much needed conversation

You insist on basically living in Spencer’s apartment while he gets used to the limitations of being shot in the leg. You know, because you’re his best friend and this is totally what best friends do. You help him in the elevator and unlock his door and help him to the bedroom, because you know him and you know how much he loves to sleep. He keeps protesting that you really don’t need to be there and do everything for him or help out but you refuse to hear it. 

“Spencer. Stop trying to get me to leave. I’m staying here until you’re at least a little healed up from the whole bullet through the leg thing. That’s not exactly a minor injury.” You laugh at him while he stares up at you from his bed. 

“I don’t want to inconvenience you! I know you have far better things to be doing than cleaning my place up or doing laundry here or making food for me. And I know you could be doing all these things in your own apartment because it was a mess before we left for the case before last. Also, you literally have a life outside of our friendship and looking after me constantly means that you won’t be able to do things that you do when you’re not with me” He protests as you walk out the room. 

“Hey, I wear your clothes just as much as you do, so I kind of am doing my own laundry! Also suck it up Reid, because you are never ever getting rid of me. Besides, what do I really do other than work and spend time with you? I’m happy to be here, you get that right?” You smile as you grab clothes out of the machine and stick them into the dryer. 

He mumbles something but you don’t hear it. 

“Okay so maybe that part was inaccurate but really you staying here for an extended period of time rather than at least checking in and doing basic chores in your own apartment is counterproductive, surely. Are you not just making more work for yourself in the long term? I just know there’s food rotting in your fridge right now, because I was there when you bought the groceries into your apartment and those vegetables are going to be disgusting to clean out and I will not help you this time!” Spencer yells over the sound of the dryer. 

You roll your eyes. Sure, there’s stuff you have to do in your apartment. But Spencer comes first. You’ll just do it when he’s asleep. Or distracted by some scientifically inaccurate space film. Why is he so against you helping him all of a sudden?

“Spencer. What is up with you? You literally just got shot. I’m not going to leave you here to attempt to move and do things when you walk around like a giraffe learning to walk at the best of times. You’re accident prone. And the whole shot up leg thing? Not gonna help that.” You lie on the bed next to him. He’s so pretty up close. 

“I just… I don’t know. I guess i just don’t want to feel like an burden that you feel you have to watch over. I’ve spent my whole life coping with things by myself. I can get through this by myself too.” He doesn’t really look at you when he says that. 

You know he grew up too fast, had too much put on him too young. He might be able to physically take care of himself throughout this injury, but you’re sure as hell not going to let him. You love him, hole in the leg or not. And that involves helping him, even when he thinks he’s fine and doesn’t need it. 

“Spence. I say this with all the good things; shut up. You realise this is what people do for their loved ones, right? When they can, they take care of them. No matter what.” You smile at him and roll off the bed. “Coffee?” 

Shit. You called him a loved one. He’s going to interpret that as best friend, right? Because that’s a shit way to tell him you’re in love with him. No really. 

“You’re my favourite person, Y/N. The greatest best friend any person could have.” He calls to you and you smile to yourself despite the fact that you wished he saw you as more than just a best friend. 

But right now, if that what Spencer needs to get him through the first stages of his injury, you can be his best friend. You can do that for him. 

\------------------

Spencer Reid is a bitch when he’s injured. You’ve seen it before with minor injuries, how he pretends nothing is wrong and just refuses to listen to reason. But with an injury that could potentially mess up his knee for life? For a genius, he’s being awful stupid with trying to do things he logically knows he can’t. 

It’s the fifth time you hear him fall over trying to do something you could have easily helped him with had he asked that you’ve had enough. 

“Reid. Please stop trying to do everything yourself. You’re going to do more damage to your knee and we both know it’s a serious enough injury as is. Stop trying to do too much too fast. You know i’ll happily do anything you ask me to right now. So stop being a little bitch and ask for help for once in your life!” You finally snap at him one day. 

“I know and I’m sorry. I just hate feeling so weak, it reminds me of… I just hate it.” He grumbles, maneuvering his way over to the couch. 

You know he’s talking about his drug addiction. You know he also never wants to talk about that part of his life. You come over and take his hand, smiling at him. 

“Things are going to be okay Spence. They are.” 

However things might be, you know Spencer. You know he’ll minimise anything wrong, always. It’s just who he is. You know he’ll lie to you about whatever his doctor’s tell him, so you decide to… lie your way into those meetings, by any means possible. 

You drive Spencer most places anyways, because as much as he hates your driving and reckless speeding, it’s better than public transport, especially with his busted up leg. 

When you’re at these appointments, Spencer tries to tel you he’ll be fine to go in and see his doctor by himself because he’s not a child. You smile and nod and pretend that you agree. 

“Reid? We’re ready for you now.” His doctor calls out, and the two of you stand. 

Spencer gives you a look, but you walk straight over to his doctor -- faster than Spencer could go with his crutches -- and smile at her, shaking her hand. 

“Hi there, I’m Dr Reid’s wife. Do you mind if I come with you? I know he’ll only try to minimise anything you’ve said afterwards otherwise.” You smile at her and she nods, motioning for the two of you to follow her. 

You wait for Spencer to catch up and you take in the weird look on his face. 

“My wife? Really, Y/N?” He hisses at you, although he doesn’t exactly seem annoyed at you. 

“Please it’s not like we haven’t done the whole pretend married couple thing before.” You laugh back, not looking at him. If you look at him the game’s up.

The doctor tells the two of you pretty much what you thought she would; Spencer’s knee injury was severe and would take months to heal. He asks if he was cleared to fly for work, she vehemently shuts him down. No flying for him, which meant he was desk bound. You don’t even have to look at him to know he’s annoyed about that one. He asks if she could make any kind of exception but she shuts him down. 

On the car ride home, Spencer gives you that puppy dog eyes look that he always gives you when he really wants something, you can see it out the corner of your eyes. 

“Spencer… if you’re going to ask me what i think you are, the answer is no. You’re properly injured and Hotch would kill me” You laugh; he’s so obvious about things. 

“I’m not going to ask you to lie, I’m just going to ask you not to say anything when I tell them I’m okay to go on cases. Besides, I’m a doctor, I can give myself a second opinion and say I’m cleared to fly.” He almost begs and you roll your eyes. 

“Spencer, you’re not even that kind of doctor, shut up,” You turn to look at him, “Besides, if you want me to lie for you, you better have something good to bribe me with.”

“I’ll uh, oh! The coffee from that overpriced place by work! I’ll buy you coffee from there regularly for the next few months if you don’t tell Hotch.” He looks proud of himself for coming up with something so quick. You do love coffee from that place, it’s true. 

“Okay fine. But if you get caught you better not bring me down with you.” You groan and he smiles. Damn his stupid smile.

\-------

You spend basically three weeks living with Spencer. Of course, you go to work during the day but there are no cases so you’re at Spencer’s every other moment of the day. It’s nice. It feels somehow very domestic. As if you’re not just a temporary house guest but as if you live there. Well, the two of you spend most of your time at each other’s apartments anyways but somethings just were separate. You’d spend at least a few hours apart every day, you’d never showered at his place, most of your belongings were at your respective places, aside from the clothes you’d stolen from Spencer. 

It’s kind of nice, you think. You don’t really want it to end. The idea of living alone, even though you slept with each other every night, suddenly felt incredibly lonely. 

You’d noticed that actually, a lot of your stuff had migrated to Spencer’s all of a sudden. You were using his shower, because you were always there to make sure he was alright. You were basically together constantly aside from the hours you’d spend at work. When he came back after his two weeks off, you then spent the entire day together. You were still living with him. That’s what it was, essentially. You were unofficially living with the man you loved. Even though you’d never told him that. Spencer never mentions you going back to your place after the first few days. Even when he was pretty much good on his own and back at work, there was some unspoken agreement that you wouldn’t leave just yet. 

You should probably go home, right? 

Except, home is wherever Spencer is. 

So, to rephrase, you should probably go to your apartment and give him his space back. 

You say it as a joke one day while cleaning his kitchen, “Spencer, I should probably start living in my own apartment again. After all I’ve spent like three hours there this month, so like why am I paying rent on the place if I’m never going to be there?” 

He looks at you with the most calculating look on his face. You can’t tell if he’s relieved or sad that you’re moving back to your own place. He’s told you multiple times that he likes having you around the place, but you’re always worried you’re about to overstay your welcome. 

“I’ll miss you, you know. Which is ridiculous because you live downstairs and we work together and I see you every night anyways. But for some reason I feel like this place is going to be completely different without you living here. Lonely. I’m so tired of being lonely. One time you asked me if I’ve ever felt lonely when surrounded by people. I didn’t answer you then but I get it now. I see people all the time but when you’re not there it doesn’t feel right.” He says, looking almost sad. 

You know he’s scared of abandonment, you are too. It’s probably the biggest fear the two of you have. 

“Spencer, it’s not like I’m leaving forever, I’ll still be here every night and we’ll be at work together and nothing’s going to change all that much.” Lie. You’re going to be just as lonely without him there all the time too. 

“I know.” He still doesn’t look at you. 

“You know, maybe we should just move in together. I mean, we’d save a hell of a lot on rent for places we barely live at.” You laugh but he doesn’t. He has that calculating look on his face again. 

“You know that would actually be a fiscally responsible decision for both of us seeing as we cohabit well together and travel for work a lot. And it wouldn’t exactly be a massive change for either of us anyways. It wouldn’t take a lot of effort for you to move in here.” He states this with such a serious look on his face and you can’t tell if he’s joking. 

“Why your place not mine, Spence?” You laugh and he looks at you as if you’re not getting the point. 

“Because I have substantially more things than you do -- mostly books. Also, my bed is comfier than yours.” 

You look at him for a second. Is he serious right now? Moving in with him kind of makes sense seeing as you basically lived together before this and have actually been living together for almost a month. But still. 

“How am I supposed to hide that I’m stupidly in love with you if I’m living with you?” 

Fuck. You said that without even thinking. It wasn’t meant to be said aloud. That was a thought that was meant to stay inside your head, not for Spencer to hear. He’s not saying anything, why isn’t he saying anything? You’ve ruined everything for yourself. 

“Um… I should go now.” You make to head towards the door but he blocks your way surprisingly quick for someone on crutches. 

“Spencer, you don’t have to say anything. It’s fine. I’ll get my stuff later and go, okay?” You cant even look at him. 

“You know, it’s statistically very strange that as profilers we haven’t noticed that we’re both deeply in love with each other. Considering how well we both can profile each other, isn’t it odd that we’ve never realised it before?” His hand gently moves your chin so that you’re looking at him, and you can’t believe you’ve missed this. 

He loves you. He’s not even lying, that look in his eyes right now is maybe the most genuine sign you need to know that he’s in love with you. Did you really miss this? For how long? 

“You… you love me? Like as more than your best friend?” You ask quietly and he just nods.

“I’ve loved you for years now. At first I thought I just wanted to be friends with you and then I realised that it wasn’t friendship I wanted. It was that I loved you, in a way I’ve never loved anyone. You’re everything.” He’s talking quietly but you know he means every single word with his whole heart.

“Spencer…” You’re not even sure how to express yourself right now but you can see that there’s a hint of pain in his eyes. “Wait, let’s sit down, your leg must be hurting real bad right now.” 

You make your way to the couch. You said you loved him. He said he loved you. For years. And you never noticed. You both have been in love for so long and didn’t even realise it. How did you miss this? No really, you’ve spent most of your time with this man for the past three years and you didn’t realise he loved you? And you call yourself a profiler. 

“I have another confession, Y/N.” He looks at you almost guiltily and your heart drops. “Wait it’s nothing bad! It’s just that… we kind of maybe had a similar conversation to this last time you blacked out drinking with the team and then forgot about it and I thought it would be weird to casually bring up that you said you loved me and I said I loved you so I just kind of pretended it didn’t happen. So… I kind of already knew you loved me. But! I didn’t think either of us were really ready for that conversation but maybe we are now so I’m telling you about it now and I’m really sorry. But, Y/N, I really do love you with every fibre of my being.”

“You fucking liar! You said I didn’t say anything that night! I think a love declaration was perhaps the most important part of that entire night, don’t you think?” You laugh at him, there’s no heat in your words, how can there be when everything is perfect because you’re in love with each other. “Also, that was two fucking months ago? Jesus, Spencer, you’re good with secrets I’ll give you that.”

“Cookie dough.” He says with a grin. “We weren’t golden brown yet. We are now.” 

“But… what happens now? Where do we go from here?” You whisper, looking into his eyes, almost terrified of future. You love each other, but now what?

“I think we are kind of in a relationship already anyways, in our own weird way. There’s just one thing.” He whispers and he seems so close, when did he get so close?

“What is it?” You wonder, but you soon realise. 

He kisses you. Spencer kisses you and the world stops. There are no thoughts, just his lips on yours, clinging to you as if he’d die without you. You’ve kissed a lot of people, but none of them are as good as Spencer Reid. It’s as if you were made for each other. He pulls you closer and your hands are in his hair and you finally don’t have to wonder what it would feel like to run your fingers through it because it’s tight within your grip now. You’re making out with Spencer Reid and this time Derek fucking Morgan isn’t there to get in the way. This is everything you’ve ever wanted and more. His hand on your face and your waist pulling you as close to him as you could possibly be. The moment could have lasted ten minutes or ten years. 

And then Spencer pulls away, hissing in pain. That stupid broken knee of his that he won’t take real pain medication for because he can’t stomach the idea of being on any kind of drugs again, being dependent on them. 

The moment is broken. You laugh. 

“What’s so funny?” He looks at you with that strange expression that you’ve finally realised is pure and unadulterated love. 

“This is everything I’ve ever wanted, I think. I really have everything I’ve ever wanted right here.” You say, smile on your face. 

“I think… me too. This is it for me I think.” He gently touches your face and kisses you chastely. 

You’re so in love with him. 

“But seriously do you want to be roommates, because it would definitely be a smart financial move for the both of us, and I can clear out my office for you if you wanted and I just really don’t think it would be right for us to go back to living separately when we could quite as well live here together in this space and --” 

You kiss him again, this time to stop his rambling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow they're finally admitting they love each other its only taken like three years to get there


End file.
